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1 


REMINISCENCES 

OF 

VIRGINIA LIFE 


A CENTURY AGO 


By MARY E. BENNETT 

5 ) 



1924 

THOMAS & EVANS PRINTING COMPANY 
BALTIMORE, MD. 


C. 


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FOREWORD 

Tg 


In my sketch of John Wilton I have closely followed facts given 
me by a dear relative, long since gone to her reward. 

In ante-bellum times, the period whereof this story treats, this rela¬ 
tive was a queen in social life, with constant social demands growing 
out of the hospitable customs of the old plantation life. Many of the 
incidents related are interesting glimpses of her own personality. 


1924. 


Mary E. Bennett. 
































' 



































CONTENTS 


CHAPTERS PAGE 

i Cedar Hill. 5 

ii The Race. 9 

hi Aspen Grove. 14 

iv A Haunted House. 1? 

v A Carpenter’s Daughter. 23 

vi The Soiree. 28 

vii The Fox Hunt. 33 

viii A Day at Fredericksburg. 38 

ix The Betrothal. 43 

x Father and Son. 45 

xi A Mechanic not Regard able. 49 

xn John and the Senator. 52 

xiii Marie’s Trousseau. 57 

xiv Captain Lancaster. 60 

xv John’s Resolution. 67 

xvi Lady Alice... 72 

xvn Distinguished Visitor. 77 

xviii Fannie’s Sentiment Changes. 80 

xix The Agreement. 83 

xx Fannie’s Wedding. 86 

xxi General Lafayette. 91 

xxii The Reception... 97 

xxm Lady de Lourna’s Letter. 100 

xxiv Enos, the Letter Carrier. 103 

xxv General Lafayette’s Departure. 106 

xxvi The Same in Prosperity and Adversity. 109 

xxvii Desiring a Reconciliation. 114 

xxviii Sad News. 117 

xxix Eliza. 120 

xxx The Chesapeake Bay. 125 

xxxi Wisdom Gained by Experience. 129 

xxxii The Louisiana Home. 132 

xxxiii The Lawsuit. 137 

xxxiv All Things. 141 




















































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I 
























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CHAPTER I. 


Cedar Hill. 


T WO brick, columns, each surmounted with a huge, white ball, 
stood by the opened gates that led to the graveled driveway. 
A driveway bordered on both sides by cedar trees, and extended 
one mile to the home of Judge Howell on the Potomac river. 

This Virginia home was a mansion built of English bricks, by 
Judge Howell’s ancestors, during the Colonial times. 

The parlor, one of the many rooms of this mansion, was on the 
right of a wide hall, was a large, high-ceiling room, the paneled sides 
of which were ornamented with old family portraits, some of them 
more than a century old. Worthy of observation was a handsomely 
framed sampler embroidered on white satin, representing a “Shep¬ 
herdess”; the unique work of the late Lady Mildred Howell, wife of 
Judge Howell, and daughter of the late Sir Roger Berwick, of Eng¬ 
land. This room, with its highly polished floor, was furnished with 
two massive mahogany sofas, chairs to match, centre table standing 
on eagles’ claws, music and flute resting on a small, “spindle-legged” 
piano. Over the door by the side of the high mantel, hung heavy 
drapery; and beyond this was the dining-room. When the drapery 
was opened one could see the large sideboard with glasses, decanters, 
and old-style silver service thereon. 

The parlor-chamber, to the left of the hall, was a room quite as 
large as the parlor; the great mahogany bed-stead, with high teaster, 
snow-white valance and counterpane, three carpeted steps by the side, 
was: “A dream of peace.” 

This lovely afternoon of September, 1820, there was not a speck on 
the clear sky, save those fantastic white clouds which relieved the in¬ 
tensity of the blue ether. Judge Howell, the owner and master of 
Cedar Hill estate, was sitting on the veranda, having a social chat 
with his neighbor, Senator Loft, who was paying him a call. 

The Senator was grandly imposing in form with strong individual 
personality. A very young man to have taken such a prominent part 
in the “Free states and the states having slaves” question. His ora¬ 
torical powers made a great impression on the Senate. 


6 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


The Senator still retained his riding-whip in hand, his large, high- 
crowned hat lying on the floor by his chair, which was tilted and sup¬ 
ported by the doric column of the veranda. 

After discussing the crops of their respective plantations, they en¬ 
tered on the subject of the Missouri compromise that had just been 
adopted. The Senator expressing his admiration for Henry Clay who 
had been so active in promoting the measure. 

Presently the Judge remarked: “The expansion of the nation in 
population and wealth has indeed been rapid. ’ ’ 

“It is wonderful”; returned the Senator, “the increase of popula¬ 
tion has never been equaled in any country, and the prosperity of the 
carrying-trade from the peace of 1783 until 1806, has enriched the 
United States beyond calculation.” 

“Yes. I recollect,” said the Judge, “when the manfaetures of 
England were poured in upon us, and the importer could undersell 
the artist.” 

“That is true,” replied the Senator, “and you also recollect, Judge, 
the War of 1812 had a beneficial effect on the arts; it transported the 
workshops from England to the United States.” 

The proud Judge frowned. Said he: “I presume you know, sir, 
why our statesmen wished our workshops kept so long in Europe!” 

“Of course, I know,” satirically replied the Senator. “It was the 
fear of corruption; when every one ought to know the whole world is 
benefited by the mechanic.” 

“Yes: in a pecuniary way,” the Judge quietly responded. 

“Not only in a pecuniary way, Judge,” said the Senator, rising 
from his chair. 

“Well, that is my opinion,” returned the Judge, also rising. 

“I am aware, sir,” said the Senator, “that is the general opinion, 
nevertheless, it is a mistaken notion. I believe in the old maxim, 
Judge,” continued the Senator, “when the moral character is found 
to be correct and substantial, every particle of intelligence tells. It 
is my opinion,” emphasized the Senator, “that the mechanics and 
manufacturers of the present day, are as elevated in the scale of 
morals, as the agriculturist and the professional men of the country.” 

The Judge closed his mouth and shook his head; plainly showing 
he did not agree with the Senator. Although the Judge was exceed¬ 
ingly polite, he was somewhat silent and unapproachable. To his 
family, his word was the law. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 7 

Hearing the clatter of horses’ hoofs both gentlemen stepped to the 
front of the veranda to see the riders. 

“Miss Marie certainly rides to an advantage,” remarked the 
Senator. 

The Judge was pleased. “Yes,” he said, “and I have been think¬ 
ing it was high time they were coming home.” He did not wish the 
Senator to lose one opportunity to meet his lovely daughter, Marie. 
Of all the desires of Judge Howell’s selfish heart the greatest was to 
have the Senator’s vast acres united with his many acres of Cedar 
Hill. Yet, the Judge was shrewd enough to keep that desire locked 
within his own breast. 

The Senator was not the only gentleman who thought Miss Marie 
rode to an advantage. Her friend and escort, Mr. John Wilton, had 
come to that conclusion more than a year ago. 

Of the two lovely girls that dismounted and greeted the Senator, it 
would take a very close observer to detect there was any preference 
with that gentleman. But the Judge, who was ever watchful, fancied 
there was a deeper tinge on the face and a brighter sparkling in the 
eyes of the Senator when he held the hand of Miss Marie. The Judge 
also wondered why Miss Marie could not see it. 

His stern mouth relaxed as he silently watched Marie in her fault¬ 
lessly fitting, green cloth riding habit, which was in perfect harmony 
with her blue eyes and profusion of golden hair; tall, willowy, and 
with dignified bearing. She was kindly saying to the Senator, “Aren’t 
you and Mr. Wilton going to have your horses put up?” 

“Thank you, Miss Marie,” answered the Senator, “we cannot stay 
this evening. ’ ’ 

The Judge cordially invited the gentlemen to spend the evening 
with him. 

Mr. Wilton politely declined. 

“Thank you, Judge,” echoed the Senator, “it would be a great 
pleasure both for John and myself if we could stay, but the fact is, We 
have promised John’s father to be at Wilton Hall tonight.” 

The Senator and Mr. Wilton were about to leave when Fannie, the 
younger daughter of Judge Howell, a beautiful girl of sixteen years, 
with brilliant, laughing eyes, and dark-brown hair, approached the 
Senator with quick, elastic step, and said with her usual vivacity: 

“Senator, I won a race today with Mr. Wilton. I, now, sir, chal¬ 
lenge you to race tomorrow afternoon. ’ ’ 


8 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“Your most obedient servant,” replied the Senator, with a pro¬ 
found bow. “I shall be delighted, Miss Fannie, provided—” the 
Senator hesitated. 

‘ 1 Provided what ¥ ’ ’ inquired Fannie. 

“That the ditches we cross are not hidden by very high fences,” 
laughed the Senator. 

Fannie was known as a fearless equestrienne. 


CHAPTER II. 


The Race. 

T HE afternoon of the next day the sun was shining and the 
breezes blowing. 

“What a perfect day for the race!” exclaimed Fannie, 
bright and trim in her close-fitting habit. With gauntlets and whip 
in hand she walked to the end of the veranda, then quickly returned 
to the hall and softly called: 

“They are coming, Marie!” 

“All right, Fannie, I am ready,” was the immediate response. 
Scarcely had Fannie called Marie when Senator Loft and Mr. John 
Wilton turned the curve in the road that led to the front of the house. 

“How grand they ride!” exclaimed Fannie. “Look, Marie! the 
horses so close together and the riders sitting so erect. ’ ’ 

“With perfect military bearing,” Marie proudly returned. 

“Few men could acquire the grace that comes so natural with those 
riders!” volunteered the Judge, who was sitting on the veranda. He 
laid aside his book and advanced to receive the gentlemen. As he 
shook the hand of both he slowly and very cordially said: 

“How do you do, sir! Come up. Take this chair!” Bowing and 
waving his hand. 

A few moments sufficed the young ladies for arrangements and they 
were ready to start. Mr. Wilton had assisted Miss Marie to her sad¬ 
dle, still he lingered a short time by her side to chat. 

The Judge, standing on the veranda, gazed into that tall, courtly 
young man’s face, and he did not fail to detect the look of extreme 
pleasure that rested there. The Judge was sure he was not mistaken 
in the nature of the look; but the assurance did not serve to make him 
happy. 

“By heavens!” he muttered. “The Senator is blind.” The Judge 
frowned and set his thin lips. 

Not that the Judge failed to admire Mr. John Wilton, but he 
thought of the Senator’s many acres adjoining Cedar Hill. Mr. Wil- 

9 


10 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


ton’s personal appearance, his address, his intelligence and courtesy, 
won the way to the hearts of all who met him. Although he was a 
few years the Senator’s junior, they were friends in reality, of the 
David and Jonathan model. 

The happy riders, unconscious of the Judge’s frown, bade him 
adieu, and gaily galloped down the path. 

Reaching the main road they allowed their horses to walk. Victor, 
the Senator’s horse, showed a disposition to move at a quicker pace. 

“I declare, Senator!” exclaimed Fannie, “Victor appears to know 
we intend to have a race.” 

“I believe he is ready for a good run, Miss Fannie,” replied the 
Senator, holding back his spirited horse. “He has not been out for 
two days, evidently he is delighted to have a chance.” 

“Isn’t he a beauty!” said Fannie with admiration. “Watch him, 
Senator!” “One would think he remembered my horse and it has 
been a long time since they were out together. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Of course, he remembers your horse, Miss Fannie, ’ ’ said the Sena¬ 
tor, patting the smooth skin of the elegantly proportioned animal. 
“Victor certainly is a most sagacious creature.” “I think, Miss Fan¬ 
nie,” added the Senator, “he never forgets anything, nor any place 
where he has once been. I can trust him the darkest night, he is sure 
to find his way home, even by a road on which he has never gone 
before. ’ ’ 

“Miss Fannie,” interposed Mr. Wilton, “don’t you think it ad¬ 
visable, when we reach the starting place to call me to the race ? ’ ’ 

“You?” Fannie hastily inquired. 

“Yes, miss.” 

“No, sir,” was the emphatic reply. “Why should I do so?” 

“Because Victor is full of life today, and he is bound to win,” re¬ 
plied Mr. Wilton. 

“So is my horse full of life today, sir, and I know he is bound to 
win,” was the quick retort. 

“Really, Miss Fannie,” persisted Mr. Wilton, “I would like to try 
my horse’s speed today.” “Come now, call Victor off.’’ 

“My goodness, Mr. Wilton!” exclaimed Fannie, “I should think 
you would be ashamed to suggest such a thing, after your defeat yes¬ 
terday, sir. Surely you apprehend trouble.” 

Mr. Wilton laughed. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


11 


“No, John,” advised the Senator, “you and Miss Marie follow the 
race, and have the pleasure of seeing Miss Fannie defeated this time. ’’ 

“Thank you, Senator,” said Marie; “I shall never try to follow 
Fannie in a race. She is too fearless.” 

Marie’s nature was altogether different from that of Fannie. 

Under the old gum tree, the usual starting place, Victor and Fan¬ 
nie’s horse stood head to head. After a short pause Mr. Wilton gave 
warning. 

The horses fly. Victor ahead and superbly ridden by the Senator. 
They reached the long, wooden bridge; the clatter, clatter of the 
horses’ hoofs on the board floor, roused Fannie’s horse to fresh effort. 
The struggle was beautiful! Fannie’s horse passed the Senator like 
a flash of lightning; onj on he flew. He jumped the fence, cleared 
the ditch, darted over the hill like an arrow shot from a bow. 

Victor was close behind tearing at full speed. He jumped the 
fence—but, oh, to the horror and amazement of Marie and Mr. Wil¬ 
ton, who were some distance in the rear—Victor fell. The Senator 
was thrown forward with great force, falling on his face. 

“Hold tight, Miss Marie!” cautioned Mr. Wilton, giving her horse 
and his own a slight cut with his riding whip. 

Faster and faster they rode. 

In a few minutes, Marie and Mr. Wilton were kneeling on the green 
grass beside the unconscious Senator. Mr. Wilton supported his head, 
while Marie gently wiped away the blood that oozed from a deep cut 
on his forehead. 

Presently, a color spread over the Senator’s pale face. He was con¬ 
scious of the touch of Marie’s soft hand bathing his brow with cool 
water. He opened his eyes. 

‘ ‘ Heigh, old fellow! ’ ’ cried Mr. Wilton. * ‘ Are you all right ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, John,” the Senator slowly answered. “I am all right, no 
bones broken.” 

“Are you badly hurt, Senator?” Marie asked with tenderness, her 
hand resting on his head. 

“No, I reckon not, Miss Marie, though I struck with considerable 
force. ’ ’ 

“I am so thankful you are not seriously hurt,” she said. “When 
I saw you fall, I thought Mr. Wilton and I would never reach you, 
the seconds seemed like hours.” 


12 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


How grateful the noble Senator was for those few tender words. 
He smiled a strange, wistful smile, but he could not reply. 

Mr. Wilton warmly congratulated the Senator on his fortunate 
escape, and advised him to sit quietly in the shade, while he attended 
to Victor. 

“Never mind, John,” said the Senator, “I shall send Rufus to take 
care of him.” 

“I would rather remove the bridle and saddle now,” returned Mr. 
Wilton, suiting the action to the word. 

“It was soon over with him, John,” said the Senator, trying with 
all his power to appear calm. 

“Yes, poor fellow, he has broken his neck,” sighed Mr. Wilton, 
raising Victor’s head. 

“For mercy sake! What is the matter?” cried Fannie, looking her 
surprise and springing from her saddle. 

“Why, Miss Fannie!” exclaimed Mr. Wilton, “where did you come 
from? A few moments ago I saw your head disappear behind yonder 
hill.” 

“Of course, Mr. Wilton, I returned to see why the Senator was not 
following in the race.” 

“Oh, he dropped out, Miss Fannie,” said Mr. Wilton, with assumed 
indifference. 

The Senator, sitting by the tree, smiled. 

“Oh, Senator!” Fannie exclaimed with painful uncertainty, “are 
you hurt ? ’ ’ 

“Not much, I thank you, Miss Fannie, only a few scratches, and a 
good shaking up.” 

Fannie turned to Victor. 

“Oh! my laws, Mr. Wilton!” she cried, “is Victor dead?” 

“Yes, Miss Fannie, poor Victor is dead.” 

“Do pray tell me!” sobbed Fannie, full of anxiety. “How did it 
happen ?’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Please do not grieve at this, Miss Fannie, ’ ’ kindly spoke Mr. Wil¬ 
ton, “it was an accident. Victor fell at the jump.” 

“And broke his neck,” Fannie quickly reasoned. “Oh, it is my 
fault!” “Poor Victor!” “Oh, Senator, your lovely horse, I am 
sorry, very sorry! I will never race again.” 

“Do not say that, I beg of you, Miss Fannie,” pleaded the Senator, 

‘ * accidents will happen to all of us. ’ ’ 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


13 


“Oh, my, my!” Fannie sighed deeply. 

Never had she seemed so sweet and gracious, and womanly to the 
Senator as she stood then in her tucked-up riding habit, her face a 
little pale with weariness and excitement, her mouth tremulous, her 
large, dark eyes filled with tears—censuring herself. 

“Senator!” said Marie in a solicitous manner, “this cut on your 
forehead is still bleeding; if you are able, we had better go home and 
have something done for it. If not properly dressed, it may leave an 
ugly scar.” 

Apparently, the Senator would have agreed to anything Marie 
might suggest. He quickly replied: 

‘ ‘ Certainly, Miss Marie, I am perfectly able. ’’ 

The Senator attempted to rise. 

Mr. Wilton was immediately by his side to assist him. “Senator,” 
he said, “you mount my horse, and escort the ladies home.” 

“And you, John?” eagerly inquired the Senator. 

11 Oh, I shall walk back, ’’ was the unhesitating reply. 

‘ ‘ Ah! no, sir, ’ ’ said the Senator, ‘ ‘ I will deprive you of that pleas¬ 
ure ; I shall walk myself. ’ ’ 

“Great goodness, man!” replied Mr. Wilton, “you cannot walk 
that distance. Why, you can hardly stand.” 

“Ill fix it!” exclaimed Fannie, stepping near to Marie’s horse. 
“Here, Mr. Wilton!” and Fannie placed her small foot into Mr. Wil¬ 
ton’s hand, she gave a spring and seated herself behind Marie. “Now t , 
Senator,” she directed, “you mount my horse.” 

The Senator protested, but finally consented, and the sad riders 
slowly cantered back to Cedar Hill. The cut was dressed, but the 
Senator carried the ugly scar to his grave. 


CHAPTER III. 


Aspen Grove. 


UDGE HOWELL appreciated an education and would not tol¬ 



erate ignorance nor idleness. He would frequently say to Wil- 


liam, his only son: “Next to the education of the mind, comes 
the development and training of the tastes and the sensibilities, both 
natural and moral. ” 

When William was graduated from the William and Mary College, 
he had no desire to follow a profession. It was then the Judge gave 
him Aspen Grove, a large plantation on the Potomac River. 

When the papers were legally made in William’s favor, the Judge 
gave them to him and said: 

“Well, sir, you have proved yourself a scholar, now we shall see 
what sort of a planter you make. Aspen Grove and the negroes 
named herein are yours. I shall supply you with the necessary money 
now, and I will give you advice whenever you solicit it. One item 
more, sir,” added the Judge with an austere look, “you will see by 
this paper,jyou are not at liberty to sell one of these negroes.” 

William thanked his father, and said: “I sincerely trust, sir, I may 
prove worthy of so great confidence. I shall never wish to sell any 
of them. ’ ’ 

This was the second year of William’s management. So far, Judge 
Howell was much pleased with his experiment. 

One cold morning in November, Judge Howell, hearing his son giv¬ 
ing instructions to Sam concerning his horse, hastened to open the 
breakfast-room door. 

“Good morning, sir!” said the Judge. “Come into the fire. The 
air is cold this morning! ’ ’ 

After both were seated, the Judge said: 

“Well, sir! How is everything moving at Aspen Grove?” 

“Pretty fair, sir. The only thing that bothers me now is Aunt 
Sally (a slave). I fear she is quite sick.” 

“Ah!” said the Judge. “What have you done for her?” 


14 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


15 


“I gave her blue-mass last night, and she drank a bowl of camo¬ 
mile tea; but this morning she was not feeling any better. I stopped 
and asked the doctor to go over and prescribe for her.’ ’ 

“Well,” returned the Judge, “I suppose the doctor said he would 
have to bleed her. ’ ’ 

“Yes, father,” William replied, “the doctor intends to bleed her, 
and he said, ‘If her stomach appeared loaded with bile, a gentle dose 
of Ipecacuanha may be administered with advantage.’ ” 

Aunt Sally, like many other slaves, survived the usual remedies, 
she was soon well and ready to serve her not over active master. 

“What is going on at the Court House this morning?” asked the 
Judge. 

“That ghost has created considerable excitement down there,” Wil¬ 
liam replied. 

“What!” exclaimed the Judge in a disdainful manner. “That 
silly rumor of Henry Brown’s farm creating excitement?” 

“Why, father,” said William, “I was told a number of men both 
white and black went over there last night to watch for the ghost.” 

“Pshaw!” exclaimed the Judge with a toss of his head. “Well,” 
he said, ‘ * were they rewarded for their trouble ? ’ ’ 

“Indeed, sir,” replied William, “you would think so if you could 
hear them talk. I heard several reliable men say they saw a man come 
out and walk around the house, clothed in a white shroud. Some one 
told how the night before, the ghost carried his head in his hand, the 
teeth grinning, and the eyes flashing fire. Then fearful groans would 
intervene between the rattling of heavy chains.” 

“Such nonsense!” impatiently exclaimed the Judge. “No wonder 
the negroes are frightened. I shall send for Senator Loft to come 
over tomorrow afternoon; we can then form some plan to investigate 
this annoyance. It has been going on too long now,” added the 
Judge. 

“I saw the Senator at the Court House today,” said William. 
44 This excitement of the people seems to annoy him very much. ’ ’ 

“What did he say about it?” asked the Judge. 

44 The Senator told me privately,” began William, “that Joe Adams 
was down at the Court House early this morning, giving a full de¬ 
scription of the ghost, with the fearful groans he had heard. And 
closed his talk by saying: 4 The whole damned farm is haunted. There 
will be nothing but bad luck fol any one who buys it. ’ ” 


16 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“What does the Senator think of that?” the Judge inquired. 

“He has concluded there is something wrong with Joe Adams,” 
William replied. 

“Aha!” said the Judge. “I want to know why Joe Adams is so 
anxious to buy a farm he declares is haunted and positively means 
bad luck for the owner. ’ y 

“Well, we shall soon find out, father,” said William. “But I must 
go now.” 

At that moment Marie entered the breakfast room. 

“Why brother!” she exclaimed. “Surely you are not putting on 
your gloves to go! ” 

“Yes, sister,” he answered. “I sent Dr. Smith over to prescribe 
for Aunt Sally this morning. I am obliged to see him before I go 
home. ’ ’ 

“ Home! brother, why say home ? This is your home. Aspen Grove 
is a mere place of business. ’ ’ 

“Well,” drawled William, “I reckon I have two homes, now.” 

“No, sir,” said Marie, “this is your only home, the home of your 
childhood. ’ ’ 

“Ah, sweet sister!” drawing her to him. “Come what will,” he 
said, “the wings of fancy will always bear me to my early childhood 
home. ’ ’ 

In response to a small bell, Marie rang that was on the table. 
Eliza, a neat, pleasant-faced negro girl, the maid and special prop¬ 
erty of Marie, entered the room. 

“Eliza,” said Marie, “Master William wishes Sam to bring up his 
horse. ’ ’ 

“Yes, miss,” replied Eliza, with a slight courtesy, and left the 
room. 

“Father,” said William, when mounted, “I shall be here tomorrow 
afternoon to hear what the Senator has to say in regard to Henry 
Brown’s farm.” 

“Very well, I shall certainly look for you.” Then with a stately 
bow and a wave of his hand the Judge said: 

‘ ‘ Good morning, sir. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER IV. 


Haunted House. 


T HE next morning Marie and Fannie lingered in the dining¬ 
room, where Marie had been conferring with her cousin, Betty, 
concerning the domestic affairs. Cousin Betty had always 
been a capable little woman and cared for the welfare of Judge 
Howell’s family since the Judge brought Lady Mildred to Cedar 
Hill, a bride. 

That evening when Marie and Fannie entered the parlor, they 
found the Judge, Senator Loft, and their brother, William, in an 
animated conversation. The Judge was quoting: 

“Mankind in the early time felt the inspiration of something above 
them; they bowed to the power of prophecy; they nourished the un¬ 
earthly dream, and produced—what? Superstition!” 

“A superstitious person,” said the Senator, “has an utter disre¬ 
gard for reason, under the false supposition of enjoying a direct 
guidance from on High.” “And such persons have existed long be¬ 
fore the time of the ancient seers, who thought that in the stars our 
chronicles were writ. But in the present age,” added the Senator, 
“there are numerous slave-holders who shift the responsibility of 
enlightening the negro—whose very life is superstition; fearing the 
present generation may pass away before any good resulted from their 
labor. They think life is too short to undertake it.” 

The Judge nodded his head in approval. 

“Still,” continued the Senator, “there are some who have neither 
that fear nor think it a hopeless task. You know I have already made 
the assertion, that it is not only to the interest of posterity, but to the 
slave-holder himself to keep in mind what will promote the welfare of 
his slave.” 

The Judge walked silently across the room with his head down, and 
his hands clasped behind him, then facing the Senator, he said: 

11 That is all very true, sir, but this present trouble is what provokes 
me. It is scandalous that a community like this can be so greatly 
exercised over a rumor that is as ridiculous as it is false. ’ ’ 


17 


18 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“It is astonishing with what rapidity such news will spread, re¬ 
marked William. “I received a letter from Mr. Miller, asking about 
the rumor. He has been informed, not only the blacks but many of 
the white folks of this section are greatly alarmed. 

“I hope, sir,” said the haughty Judge contemptuously, “I am not 
included with those white folks. ’ ’ 

“Father!” ventured Fannie, “I reckon this rumor accounts for 
the absence of the neighbors from church Sunday afternoons, they 
are afraid to drive past that farm, going home, after sundown.” 

“Madam!” said the Judge in his austere manner, “I credit them 
with better judgment.” 

Fannie, not daunted, turned to the Senator, and said: 

“What do you intend to do with the ghost, if you capture him?” 

“We shall have him securely fastened under lock and key,” ans¬ 
wered the Senator. “Miss Fannie,” he said, “I suppose that if, im¬ 
plies some doubt on your part.” 

‘ ‘ Doubt! ’ ’ laughed Fannie, ‘ ‘ that you gentlemen who are going out 
tonight on a ghostly errand will be successful? Why, really, to me 
it is amusing.” 

“Now,—now, Fannie,” bantered William. “And not at all alarm¬ 
ing that Henry Brown’s father haunts his old home?” 

“You can rest assured, brother,” Fannie replied, “I am not the 
least bit alarmed; neither by this talk nor the excitement the people 
have aroused.” Fannie paused and pointed—“Just look at that 
ghost!” she cried. 

Every eye in the room was directed towmrd the opposite sofa, where 
Marie was partially reclining, her manner one of perfect content, and 
unconsciously, perfect grace. She looked up and smiled, a deep flush 
spread over her quiet, but usually pale face. 

“Now!” exclaimed Fannie, satisfied with her experiment, “the 
ghost looks more substantial.” 

‘ ‘ Miss Marie, what do you think of this rumor ? ’ ’ asked the Senator. 

“My reason tells me, Senator,” she replied, “that disembodied 
spirits never become so undignified as to run around a farm dragging 
heavy chains, moaning and groaning. Spiritual beings cannot touch 
anything human much less deal in such display Moreover,” con¬ 
tinued Marie, “if the moans and groans are really heard, they are 
uttered by some living person, and that person has some object in 
view. Perhaps wishing to depreciate the value of the farm.” 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 19 

“Exactly my idea, Miss Marie,” said the Senator. “And we all 
know such reports will greatly depreciate the value of property.” 

“One night last week,” continued the Senator, “I questioned the 
men in regard to the movements of Joe Adams, while they watched 
for the ghost.” 

“Do you think the men surmised your motive for inquiring?” 
eagerly interrupted the Judge. 

“No, sir, I am quite sure they did not.” 

“It could be possible,” said the Judge. 

“But my questions were too well guarded, sir,” said the Senator. 
“However, I learned that Joe Adams was not seen on the road, or 
on the farm until the ghost had disappeared. Saturday morning, at 
the Court House, I said to him in a disinterested manner, ‘ Mr. Adams, 
how was it, you were not out to see the ghost last night.’ He was 
more than a trifle confused and stammered some incoherent reply. 
As I was about to leave him, he said, ‘You know, Senator, my wife is 
an invalid; she had a bad spell last night and I did not care to go 
out.’ I complimented him, and said no more about the ghost.” 

The Senator looked at his watch. “While we are waiting for the 
time to pass, ’ ’ said he, ‘ 1 and, if agreeable to you all, I will relate my 
experience of last Monday night. ’ ’ 

“We shall be delighted to hear it, sir,” said the Judge, taking a 
seat nearer the Senator. 

“Well,” began the Senator, “I presume you remember Monday 
night was fearfully dark. About nine o’clock it had ceased to rain, 
I then concluded to ride over to Henry Brown’s farm and see for my¬ 
self the cause of this excitement. It was so dark when I rode through 
the woods I could not see my horse’s head; and the awful stillness 
was more unpleasant than the darkness. Just before I reached the 
crossroad, the mournful cry of an owl greeted me; many times I have 
heard an owl hoot, but I never felt just like I did at that moment. 
Judge' you know the large gate at the top of the lane, the one that 
opens to the carriage drive?” asked the Senator. 

“Yes, sir,” I know the one you mean,” the Judge answered quickly. 

“Well,” said the Senator, “I sat on my horse by that gate, looking 
in every direction for something unnatural. I saw nothing but na¬ 
ture, and I heard not a sound; only at intervals, a hickory nut would 
fall to the ground, and strike a leaf that had fallen before. My horse 
was restless, yet I sat there in that lonely place watching and waiting. 


20 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


I had just determined there was nothing to see and decided to go 
home, when I heard something like a moan. It was scarcely audible. 
What is that? I wondered. I watched and listened, all was silent. 
Then soon again,” continued the Senator, “I heard a strange, dole¬ 
ful sound. My horse quivered from head to foot. I called him by 
name. I leaned forward and patted his head, tried to assure him all 
was right. As I raised myself I caught a glimpse of a tall figure in 
white, with eyes like fire, flames shooting from nostrils and mouth, 
creeping up the carriage drive from the house. Talk about fright!” 
exclaimed the Senator. "My horse gave a snort, and like a flash he 
was out of that lane; the poor, frightened creature never slackened 
his speed until he reached his stable.” 

"Oh, Senator!” were you not frightened, too?” asked Marie, she 
was evidently nervous. 

"Not exactly frightened, Miss Marie, but I admit, I was wonder¬ 
fully surprised.” 

"I reckon the Senator thought, and still thinks he has seen a 
ghost,” said Fannie. 

The Senator laughed outright. 

"Hardly that, Miss Fannie, when every one knows the very reason 
that ghosts are dreaded, is, that ghosts are never seen.” 

"I am now convinced,” said William, "that Joe Adams is playing 
ghost. ’ ’ 

"I hope not, brother,” said Marie, "for the sake of his poor wife, 
who is truly a great invalid. Also for the sake of his daughter, 
Matilda, whose devotion to her sick mother is really pathetic. Ma¬ 
tilda told me they were from New York, her grandfather is a Presby¬ 
terian minister in that city, ’ ’ added Marie. 

"Well, gentlemen!” exclaimed the Judge, as he arose and bowed 
to the ladies. "Our time is up. The horses are waiting at the door. 
Come!” he said, "before we start we had better repair to the dining¬ 
room.” The Judge called for hot water. Although it was the cus¬ 
tom to have filled decanters, lemons and loaf sugar always on the 
sideboard, these gentlemen were never known to over indulge. Neither 
would they condescend to enter a tavern for the purpose of drinking. 
After toasting the ghost the three gentlemen and three servants, all 
well mounted, started off for Henry Brown’s farm. The night was 
dark and cold, the moon had just gone down, the clouds overhead 
though not particularly heavy, were just sufficiently so to hide every 
star, and cast a deep gray shadow over the land. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


21 


As they approached the farm, they could discern the dark outline 
of the forms of men standing in the road. Some were perched on 
fences. The crowd was composed mostly of white men. Very few 
black men ventured out that night, to watch and wait for the ghost 
to appear. 

Senator Loft possessed in the highest degree, that precious gift, 
tact. “Men and neighbors,” he said, “the only way to stop this un¬ 
lawful excitement is to investigate the cause. And for that purpose 
I am here tonight.” 

Wishing to surround the house, the Senator divided the crowd of 
men. He sent some across the field; others he sent round by the back 
road to the house. “The remaining party,” said the Senator, “will 
go up the lane to the carriage drive with me.” 

The first two divisions were in position. Then the Senator with 
his few men rode cautiously up the driveway toward the house. They 
were hardly in position when the front door slowly opened, an object 
in white glided off the veranda into the box-bordered walk. 

For a moment every man was speechless. One young negro trem¬ 
bling with fright, whispered, “Befo’ de Lawd! dat am Henry Brown’s 
father!” 

‘ ‘ Hush ! f ’ softly admonished an older white man. 

The Senator reined in and quietly said, “Rufus, hold my horse.” 

The Senator quickly dismounted and advanced toward the white 
object, when near enough to it, he cried: ‘ * Halt! ’ 

Instead of obeying the command, the ghost flew around the house 
like a frightened bird, and struck against Dwight Marlow. He be¬ 
ing stricken with terror, raised a pistol and fired. 

Down fell the ghost. 

“0 my God!” was the despairing cry of a man, who had fallen 
upon his knees before the prostrate form. “0, my precious child! 
How she begged me not to compel her to deceive the people!” He 
caught the still form to his breast and kissed the pale lips. He wepit 
as he had never wept before. 

“Joe Adams! man! what is the matter with you?” asked the Sena¬ 
tor, taking Adams by the arm. 

“Oh, sir!” wailed the miserable man, “they have killed my daugh¬ 
ter. My daughter is dead! Oh! my dear, good child.” 

The Senator hastily removed the sheet, and was horrified to see the 
timid Matilda Adams lying there dead. 


22 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


What woeful intelligence to carry to the poor, frail mother! 

Alas! it was more than she could bear; in less than a week there 
were two mounds in the churchyard under the yew tree. 

Dwight Marlow, the Yankee over-seer of the adjoining county, who 
fired the fatal shot, was arrested and placed on trial for murder. He 
was acquitted by the jury. 

Joe Adams, the ignominious projector, confessed he had played 
ghost until he was afraid the people suspicioned him. Then he em¬ 
ployed a man to do the ghostly work for him. The last night that the 
ghost was seen, this man refused to act as ghost. Adams wished to be 
seen with the people when the ghost appeared, insisted, that Matilda, 
his gentle, modest daughter, would throw the sheet over her head and 
walk once around the house. 

“Well, your Honor!” said Adams, “she positively refused. Then 
again I would try to persuade her. It is only this, one more night. 
I knew I could buy the farm the next day for little or nothing, 7 7 said 
Adams, “still she would say, ‘Father, I cannot do that. Please do 
not tell me to do such a thing. 7 

“Thinking it would touch her heart, I told her she was depriving 
her poor sick mother of a comfortable home. Still she refused to do 
as I bid her. What was I to do? 77 cried Adams, “I knew the men 
would look for me to be with the crowd, I dared not go to Henry 
Brown’s house and do as I had done. I was almost crazy. Then it 
was I suddenly turned to my dear child and wildly shrieked: 

“You shall obey me, or I will kill you! 77 

“Your Honor! 77 cried the wretched man, “God knows, I did not 
intend to kill her. 77 Adams paused, his emotion was pitiful. 

“She stood before me, sir, more like a white marble statue than a 
human being and uttered in a low, sad voice: 

‘ Father, I will obey you, may God forgive you and me. 7 7 7 

Joe Adams was given twenty-four hours to leave the county for¬ 
ever. He succeeded in depreciating the value of Henry Brown’s 
farm. It remained untenanted and uncultivated many years; and 
was ever after known as the Haunted House. 


CHAPTER V. 


A Carpenter’s Daughter. 

T HE Sunday before Christmas, Marie and Fannie rode over to 
the old brick church. A church very unique in its style of 
Gothic architecture, rising in the midst of a graveyard, shaded 
with old yew trees, and enclosed by a wall of Virginia creeper. 

Since the former rector, Dr. Morris, left that field of labor for a 
larger one in the city of Fredericksburg, the members frequently re¬ 
marked the absence of Miss Marie Howell from the family pew. Dr. 
Morris and his wife were close personal friends of Judge Howell’s 
family. 

After service that morning, Marie stopped to speak to the new but 
much esteemed rector. Then she kindly greeted her friends and 
neighbors. The poor of the parish were never slighted nor passed 
without a kind word for some sick or absent one. 

It was also the custom of those neighbors to invite some of their 
friends to accompany them home to dinner. 

Fannie was waiting for Miss Kitty Hughes, who had accepted an 
invitation from her, to spend Christmas week at Cedar Hill. 

“There she is, sister!” exclaimed Fannie, “she is talking with her 
mother. How sweet she looks!” 

“She certainty does, Fannie,” whispered Marie. “I think there 
is not a prettier or more refined young lady in the county than Kitty. ’ ’ 
Kitty nooded and smiled to the Misses Howell. Fannie hastened to 
“Widow Hughes” and thanked her for the pleasure of Kitty’s 
company. 

Soon the three young ladies were seated in the large carriage; by 
the side rode handsome William Howell, who had at that moment 
joined them. The footman had raised the steps, and was about to 
close the carriage door, when William reined his horse and quietly 
laid a small piece of mistletoe on the lap of Miss Kitty. 

To a casual observer there would seem no need, that so simple a 
gift should have called a deep blush into the very white cheek of Miss 
Kitty. 


23 


24 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


It might have been the cold, crispy air, but William Howell looked 
unusually bright that Sunday morning. 

Judge Howell was often seen at church in the family pew: he 
thought it proper to be seen there with his family, though he re¬ 
mained at home that particular Sunday morning, he said, “To nurse 
a bad cold.” 

He welcomed his daughter’s company with all the cordial grace 
and dignity becoming a gentleman of his standing. 

Kitty, naturally shy and timid, was glad when the great dinner was 
over; the multiplicity of dainty dishes and silverware, the strangeness 
of place and people oppressed her. Although every member of the 
family, including Tecumseh, the negro waiter, availed himself of 
every opportunity to make her feel comfortable and at her ease. 

Some years before this event, Lady Mildred found Tecumseh was 
an unusually bright boy; she had him taken from the “Quarter” and 
brought to the house to serve as waiter. He was now about twenty- 
two years old, a perfect fop in manner and dress. In reply to some 
inquiries about his fine clothes, he said: 

“I makes a rule always ter be perlite ter de gentlemens dat wisit 
Marsta Willem, an’ conse’quence am dat, when dem gent’mens is 
gwine ah way, dey say: 

* T'ecumsah, old fellow, yo ’el find sumfin in my room fa yuh! ’ ” 

In the parlor, hardly one hour after dinner, Fannie threw her arm 
about Kitty, and in a weary manner said: 

“Aren’t you tired? Shall we take our nap, now? Marie has gone 
to her room.” 

Kitty readily assented. Together they ascended the stairs and 
Fannie left Kitty in the room assigned her. 

“If you need anything, Kitty,” said Fannie, “ring the bell that is 
on your stand and Lessa, my maid, will serve you. ’ ’ 

Kitty closed her chamber door, though she did not lie down, as 
there was no sleep in her big, blue eyes. She opened the reticule that 
hung on her arm, and took from it, so tenderly the little piece of 
mistletoe that had been placed on her lap that morning. She drew a 
low rocking-chair before the bright fire and sat in reverie, handling 
with loving care the tiny Christmas emblem. “I wonder—why I 
feel so lonely; everybody is kind and attentive to me. Yet, I feel so 
sad and unhappy. This is a mighty nice room!—everything in this 


25 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

house is grand! Still I feel so—so—I don’t know how. Oh, I wish 1 
had not come! I never sat at Judge Howell’s table before. Surely it 
was sweet and kind in Fannie to invite me; I ought to be happy. 

“Oh! I feel like I must run away,” cried Kitty. 

The poor girl walked over to the window and looked with longing 
eyes in the direction of her small, but sweet home. She could not see 
it. She sighed, ‘ ‘ Oh, I wish I were home! ’ ’ Her blue eyes filled with 
tears. 

Slowly, Kitty resumed her seat, she pushed up the hickory logs, and 
continued to muse: “When I am in the same room with Judge Howell 
I can plainly discern a small voice saying: ‘Quite a nice young lady, 
but, you are only a carpenter’s daughter.” 

‘ 1 1 wonder—if it can be, that he transfers his thoughts to my mind, 
without the agency of speech. I wonder—what makes him so proud 
and silent.” 

A sudden thought sent the color rushing to Kitty’s fair brow. 

“Oh, dear me!” she murmured. “What would Mr. William Howell 
think of me, if he knew my thoughts! ’ ’ 

“Oh, pshaw!” Kitty’s head fell to one side, in a way peculiar 
to herself when a new light dawned upon her. I reckon, I am home¬ 
sick. I will stay and show these friends I appreciate their kindness. ’ 9 

The little piece of mistletoe was restored to its hiding place. Kitty 
bathed her tear-stained face, freshened her long auburn curls, to ap¬ 
pear in the parlor. She breathed a silent prayer for strength, de¬ 
scended the broad staircase, and was so thankful she could close the 
parlor door without meeting the Judge in the hall. 

Why she felt so, was a mystery to herself. The Judge never gave 
her a word, or a look, that was not of Chest erfieldian politeness. 

“Why, Kitty, how bright and fresh you look!” kindly greeted 
Fannie, “You surely had a good nap.” 

Before Kitty could reply to Fannie, Cousin Betty, in her habitual 
kind manner, said: 

“Law me, child, you look cold! Come sit up to the fire!” 

There are many like Cousin Betty who have been doomed to the 
evil, or good of a single life, by domestic tyranny or family pride. 

Being less closely connected with the world, Cousin Betty’s labor 
was appreciated only at and near her home. If any one was in trouble 


26 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


on the plantation, the resort was immediately to Cousin Betty. Many 
times she had been found in the “Quarter” watching by the bedside 
of pain and death. 

Presently Cousin Betty said: 

■ ‘ Miss Kitty, don’t you play on the piano ? ’ ’ 

* 1 1 play some, ma ’am, ’ ’ Kitty answered. 

“Yes, Cousin Betty,” Fannie proudly interposed, “she plays and 
sings, too.” 

“Will you sing for me?” asked Cousin Betty, “I am especially 
fond of music.” 

“I will try, ma’am,” replied Kitty. 

“Before she tries,” said Fannie, “'let me tell you what the rector 
said of her singing.” 

“Please don’t, Fannie,” pleaded Kitty. 

* ‘ Fannie! ’ ’ mildly reproved Marie. 

“You all know, I am bound to tell it,” laughed Fannie. “So I 
may as well tell it now, the rector said,” began Fannie, “that this 
county had not produced a singer that could compare with Kitty in 
rare sweetness of tone, and power of voice.” 

Kitty blushed deeply. 

“Look here!” cried Fannie, jumping up. “Now, we shall have it, 
here is brother William, he will accompany Kitty with his flute.” 

“Certainly, I will,” said William, cheerily. 

In a few moments Kitty placed her hand on William’s proffered 
arm, he led her to the piano. Her white cheeks were suffused with a 
bright red color. She turned with some timidity and inquired: 

“Miss Betty, is there any particular hymn you wish me to sing?” 

“No, indeed, honey, just suit yourself.” 

“If you will allow me to suggest,” said Marie, “I would say sing 
the beautiful Christmas hymn we sang in church this morning. ’ ’ 

William raised his flute, caught the keynote; he and Kitty played 
a soft prelude, then she sang: 

Joy to the world! the Lord is come; 

Let earth receive her King; 

Let every heart prepare Him room 
And heaven and nature sing.” 

Kitty had sung two verses of the hymn when the door was slowly 
opened, and Judge Howell walked across the room in his proud,, 
stately manner and sat on the sofa facing his son and Miss Kitty, at 
the piano. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


27 


Kitty looked up; her eyes met a pair of dark, keen eyes. The 
Judge was gazing at her with close attention. Her voice seemed to 
leave her. iShe could not play correctly. It was with difficulty she 
managed to finish the hymn. 

Every one in the room, though too well bred to express surprise, 
wondered why the lovely voice, clear as a bell, should suddenly be¬ 
come hoarse and weak. 

Alas! no one heard the small contemptuous voice as Kitty did, 
saying: 

“You are only a carpenter’s daughter.” 

She rose from the piano. 

Marie, always thoughtful for others, sought to relieve Kitty’s em¬ 
barrassment by requesting her brother, William, to accompany her 
with his flute. 

“Father!” she said, “if agreeable to you, we will singe Dundee?” 

“Thank you, madam,” replied the Judge with a bow, “I should 
like very much to hear it.” 

The last notes of the pure, old Scottish hymn were just audible 
when Senator Loft and Mr. John Wilton were announced. 

These constant visitors were always kindly and courteously re¬ 
ceived. 


CHAPTER VI. 


The Soiree. 

T UESDAY morning, through a veil of snow falling thick and 
fast, General Harvie’s servant man appeared at Cedar Hill 
with a letter from Mrs. Harvie inviting the Misses Howell and 
their visitor to a soiree, Christmas night. 

4 4 Oh, that will be fine! ’ ’ cried Fannie, taking a few steps in a dance. 
“Of course, Miss Hughes,” she said, making a lofty bow to Kitty, 
4 4 you will accept the invitation. ’’ 

4 4 1 don’t know, Fannie,’ ’ she slowly replied. 

44 Oh! yes, Kitty, said Fannie, 44 let us all go.” 

44 I would rather not,” quietly returned Kitty. 

44 What?” cried Fannie in surprise. 

44 I say,” firmly responded Kitty, 44 I would rather not go to Mrs. 
Harvie’s soiree.” 

44 Why, Kitty! Have you any particular reason?” 

4 4 No,—” she faintly answered. 4 4 But,—” 

44 But what?” asked Fannie. 

44 Well, one thing, Fannie, they are all strangers to me.” 

44 Possibly, there will be some strangers there,” said Fannie, 44 sure¬ 
ly you cannot call Mrs. Harvie and Miss Nannie strangers, when you 
see them in church every Sunday . 9 ’ 

44 No, not exactly strangers,” Kitty sighed. 

44 Now dear,” urged Fannie, 44 do not refuse to go, it will be such 
a disappointment. ’’ 

4 4 You shall not be disappointed on my account, Fannie, I will stay 
here with Miss Betty, and you go to the soiree.” 

44 No, indeed,” said Fannie, 44 if you will not go, neither will I go. 
Kitty, you are invited and we want you to go with us.” 

Kitty made no reply. She knew the invitation came to Cedar Hill 
and not to the white cottage. 

A kindly smile played upon Fannie’s bright face as she twisted one 
of Kitty’s long auburn curls around her finger. 

28 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


29 


“You will go, won’t you?” coaxed Fannie. “Of course, you did 
not bring a party dress with you, but you must wear one of my white 
india mull dresses, with a blue sash. And I shall dress just like you,” 
added Fannie. 

Kitty really had no desire to go to the soiree. Still she allowed 
her objections to be silenced. 

Christmas morning had dawned. ‘ ‘ Christmas gift! ” “ Christmas 
gift!” was the general greeting the ladies received from the house 
servants that morning long before the distribution of presents began. 

Although Judge Howell was known as a close business man, he was 
always generous in supplying the demands of his household. Not one 
person on the plantation was forgotten; white and colored received a 
gift. 

The breakfast room was bright and cheerful, with huge logs on the 
open fire, and everybody was in fine spirits. 

“What delicious coffee!” exclaimed Fannie. 

“This raisin loaf is fine!” remarked William. 

“Brother,” said Marie, “your cold ride this morning has given 
you an appetite. I suppose you found everything as it should be at 
Aspen Grove !”” 

“Yes, sister, and left every one happy on the land.” 

The Judge laid down his fork and looked at William. 

“Have you been to Aspen Grove this morning, sir?” he asked. 

“Yes, father,” answered William. “I have just returned from 
there. ’ 9 

The Judge slightly frowned. He had noticed William’s visits to 
Cedar Hill that week were unusually long and frequent. 

Immediately after breakfast, Sam was busy with the care of horses 
belonging to visitors who came for the day. Gay laughter was sound¬ 
ing through the wide halls when Senator Loft and Mr. Wilton were 
announced. 

The festive dinner was served in the large dining-room; ropes of 
evergreen decorated the tops of pictures, mantelpiece and doorways, 
in simple, yet artistic designs. 

After the dishes had been removed with the remains of domestic 
and wild fowl, oysters and game, even the blue platter in the centre 
of the table on which had rested the roasted pig; Tecumseh came 
strutting in with a large dish containing the great plum pudding in 
full blaze. 


30 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


The exhileration of spirits at that dinner was long remembered. 

In due time Marie gave the signal and the ladies rose to adjourn 
to the parlor. The gentlemen soon left the dining-room to visit the 
stables, kennels and boat-house. The Judge, with an inclination more 
like the ladies, took his after-dinner nap. 

Well, the day advanced. The visitors who were not to attend that 
night at Mrs. Harvie’s, had left for their respective homes. 

All the house servants, and not a few ventured from the ‘ ‘ quarter’ ’ 
to the great house to peep at the young ladies dressed for the soiree. 
Many were the comments and words of praise and delight among 
themselves. 

Cousin Betty was truly solicitous for Fannie and Kitty’s health. 
She insisted, “They be warmly wrapped in long pelisse and furs.” 

Needful precaution. Dressed in thin, white mull, scant supply of 
under-skirts, silk, open-worked stockings and very thin slippers. 

Winter and summer these flimsy dresses were always cut low, or at 
most only half-high necks; three-cornered neckerchiefs of silk or lace 
were thrown over the bare shoulders. 

Though the style of scantiness of drapery was not at its extreme 
like a few years previous, when the European Prince, who sought 
refuge in America, married Miss Patterson, a Baltimore belle. Then 
generally, the one garment that was worn under the gown, was hung 
in a damp place to secure the clinging effect. 

The drawing-room at General Harvie’s was exceedingly attractive; 
the air of refinement pervaded the tasteful decoration of paintings 
and family portraits with holly and mistletoe; even the family eoat- 
of-arms which hung high over the mantel, was in holiday attire. 

Mrs. Harvie, resplendent in an imported satin gown, cordially re¬ 
ceived her guests, which were many on this occasion; but not too many 
for the movements of the merry dancers, who were whirling round to 
the lively music of fiddles and triangles, when Marie and her com¬ 
pany arrived. 

Fannie was pleased to see Kitty had no lack of partners that 
evening. 

At the appointed time the dancers and fiddles paused for a short 
rest. It was then, amidst the racket of merry voices, that General 
Harvie escorted a young lady with long auburn curls to the piano. 

“Listen, girls!” said one young lady of a group. “What a lovely 
voice!” 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


31 


“Who is she?” asked a rather tall miss. 

“I don’t know,” was the reply. 

‘ ‘ Her name is Hughes, ’ ’ volunteered Miss Porter. 

What! That lives in the little white cottage near the church ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“Well, upon my word!” exclaimed the tall miss, tossing her head. 
“Girls,” she continued, “Look at William Howell, he has danced 
three times with her tonight, and only once with Belle Garland.” 

“Do pray hush!” whispered Miss Porter. “I want to hear her. 
She sings beautifully. ’ ’ 

“'Certainly outrageous!” muttered another young lady, whose 
father was the owner of many slaves. 

“I lay she came with the Howell’s!” haughtily said Belle Garland, 
an heiress. ‘ 1 Marie is always doing something different from any one 
else .’* 

“Why, Belle!” said Miss Porter. “Don’t you know who that young 
lady is?” 

“I know very~well, Bess,” slowly replied Miss Garland, raising her 
gold salts bottle. ‘ ‘ She is the daughter of a mechanic. ’ ’ 

“Ah, me!” sighed a young man with a languishing eye. “It seems 
the dregs of society are coming to the top.” 

“And discommoding the scum,” outspoke honest Fannie Howell. 
‘ 1 Girls, I have heard your unkind remarks, you admit she sings beau¬ 
tifully, you all know she is pretty; and I am free to say, she is as 
good as she is pretty.” Emphatically affirmed Fannie, leaving the 
group to whom she thought it useless to enumerate Kitty’s many 
virtues. 

At that moment Mrs. Brown directed Mrs. Garland’s attention to 
William Howell standing near Kitty, saying of William: 

‘ ‘ He seems extremely happy tonight. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Garland, who did not quite understand. 

“The fact is,” whispered Mrs. Brown, “I am surprised to see it, 
when everybody knows he is waiting on your Belle.” 

“Well! I declare, such impudence!” murmured Mrs. Garland, 
“just as though William Howell would prefer a mechanic’s daughter 
to my Belle, an heiress.” And Mrs. Garland glanced complacently 
towards the group where her indignant daughter stood. 

Just then a dance was being formed. Mr. Wilton and the stately 
Miss Howell are to lead the graceful minuet. 


32 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


Marie never looked more beautiful than on this occasion. Her pale- 
blue velvet gown, (a selection of Judge Howell’s during a recent trip 
to New York) was extremely becoming to her queenly form. Par¬ 
ticularly so was the high lace ruching that nestled around her lovely, 
golden hair. 

From that handsome couple many eyes were turned to the dis¬ 
tinguished Senator Loft and his partner, the merry, black-eyed Fan¬ 
nie Howell, who could tread the minuet nearly as well as her stately 
sister. 

“How well the Senator dances!” was the remark Marie quietly 
made to Mr. Wilton. 

Although the Senator seemed not to know it, he was conscious of 
Marie admiring his movements, and he did his best. But, when he 
laid his hand on his heart, and bowed to her (the way of the dance) 
he rejoiced that only he knew how that organ was throbbing. 

Oh! how he longed to tell her the whole truth! He looked at her, 
then looked at John. 

The unselfish Senator bit his lip; a habit of his when he had that 
longing. 

While the guests were returning from the dining-hall, leaving the 
great mahogany tables still laden with wines, substantial and delica¬ 
cies, the fiddlers struck up the lively music of the Virginia reel. The 
young folks were delighted; every one danced. It was so different 
from the stately minuet. 

Soon after that spirited dance was over, the gentlemen assisted the 
ladies to their coaches and escorted them home. 

A decided improvement on the Colonial times, when the gentlemen 
would send the ladies home with their servants, while they remained 
until daylight with cards and wine. 


CHAPTER VII. 


The Fox Hunt. 

T HE next morning after the soiree, Judge Howell’s family and 
guests were assembled in the breakfast-room. The Judge, with 
a quick, inquiring glance at Marie, turned to Fannie and said: 
‘ ‘ Madam, where is the Senator ? 7 7 
“He went home last night, father,” Fannie answered. 

“How was that?” asked the Judge. “I thought he intended to 
spend the night with us.” 

“We could not prevail upon him to come back with us, father,” 
said Fannie. “Before we reached his lane, he sent Rufus (his valet) 
in advance to open his gates. 77 
The Judge frowned. 

“I fear the Senator is not well,” said Marie. “Last night he ap¬ 
peared so quiet and sad, even when dancing that spirited Virginia 
reel, he would sigh and seem to be in deep thought. You remember, 
brother,” continued Marie, “when you and Mr. Wilton were urging 
him to come, he replied so despondently: 

'No, no, my dear boys, do not insist tonight. I must go home.’ ” 
“Well, I am disappointed!” observed the Judge, casting a sharp 
glance at Marie. 

“I suppose, madam,” he said, “you invited the Senator to come 
back with you.” 

“Yes, father, indeed I did,” replied Marie. “But, I think, the 
Senator is not feeling well. 7 7 

“The Senator is all right, Miss Marie,” spoke Mr. Wilton. “He 
may be a little weary or probably he is brooding over that melancholy 
conflagration of which he reminded me yesterday. This Christmas 
was the ninth anniversary of it. 7 7 

Mr. Wilton then turned to the Judge. 

‘ ‘ The Senator did not forget to mention we are to meet at his home 
today for the fox hunt, and, for you, sir, to be prepared for fine 
sport. 7 7 

“Thank you, sir, 77 returned the Judge. “I have not forgotten the 
hunt; I have already given my orders to Sam, regarding the horses 

33 


34 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


and hounds. This is a fine day for the sport/’ added the Judge, 
‘ tsince the snow has melted, the ground is just soft enough for a good 
scent. 7 7 

The Judge was long regarded as chief leader in the chase; he was 
not easily fatigued in the saddle. At the appointed time a number 
of well-known fox hunters joined the hunt with their dogs. 

Fannie heard the clamor of the hounds as they crossed the field. 

“Oh, my!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement, “I 
wish I could jump into my saddle and follow them.” 

‘ * Why did you not go, Fannie ? 7 7 Kitty earnestly inquired. 

“Because the lord of this plantation did not wish any ladies in the 
chase. 7 7 

Kitty’s eyes opened wide with a dubious look. She made no 
comment. 

“Fannie!” gently reproved Marie, “You are so childish!” 

Fannie laughed a sweet, girlish laugh and tenderly explained: 

“I was only joking, Kitty; of course, father knows best.” He said: 
“They would have a long run to Richmond county and it would be 
too fatiguing for the ladies.” 

“Fortunately!” said Marie, “I have no desire to go.” She left 
the girls on the veranda and returned to Cousin Betty. 

“I cannot help it, Kitty!” declared Fannie, “the moment I hear 
the blast of the horn, and the yelp of the hounds, I am wild to join 
the chase.” 

* # Oh, Fannie! how can you feel so ? I never like to hear the hounds 
yelping, and to hear them in the night, when they are on the scent, 
sounds to me like fearful monsters in distress. 7 7 

“My goodness!” exclaimed Fannie, “the chase would be no more 
to me, without the clamor of the hounds, than the dance would be 
without the fiddle. 7 7 

Fannie jumped quickly from the seat. 

Come, Kitty! 7 7 she said, i ‘ we must do something to entertain our¬ 
selves. Let us go to the stable, I will show you how my pony can say 
‘How do! 7 77 

“Do you mean to say your pony can talk, Fannie? 77 

“Yes, in his way. When I put out my hand and say ‘How do, 
Billy! 7 he will place his foot in my hand and shake his head.” 

‘‘Who taught him to do that, Fannie? 77 ; 

“I did,” replied Fannie, proudly hastening Kitty to the stable. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


35 


The short winter afternoon was drawing to a close when the two 
young girls, each with an arm around the waist of the other, returned 
to the house; they entered the parlor and found Cousin Betty knitting 
and Marie ready to serve tea. 

“Marie!” said Fannie, sipping her hot tea, “Kitty and I have been 
wondering what Mr. Wilton referred to when he spoke of that melan¬ 
choly conflagration. ’’ 

“You mean while at breakfast this morning?” asked Marie. 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“Of course, Fannie, it was the fire in Richmond city,” said Marie, 
“when the Senator lost his father and mother, and a lovely sister, 
and nearly lost his own life. ’ ’ 

“I have heard mother speak of that fire,” said Kitty, “but I never 
knew the Senator was in anyway connected with it.” 

“Ah, child!” sighed Cousin Betty. “A mighty sad time that was. 
Indeed, I never heard tell of such trouble in all my born days. ’ 9 

‘ ‘ How did it happen, Miss Betty ? ’ ’ Kitty eagerly inquired. 

“Law, honey!” said Cousin Betty, “my memory is so poor, I for¬ 
get many of the facts. ’ ’ 

Cousin Betty paused and took a sip of tea, then after another sip, 
she said: 

‘ ‘ I reckon Marie will tell you. ’ ’ 

“Certainly,” said Marie, giving her cup and saucer to Eliza. 

“May I come back to this room, Miss Marie?” asked Eliza. 

“Yes,” she answered kindly. 

“Let me think!” began Marie, “It was in the year 1811. The 
Senator, then quite a young man, was home from college. He, with 
his father and mother and sister went to Richmond city to spend the 
Christmas holidays with relatives. 

‘ * The night after Christmas, with a large company of friends, they 
attended the theatre on Shockoe Hill; it appears there was an unusual 
number of people there to see the pantomime of ‘Agnes and Ray¬ 
mond ; or the Bleeding Nun. ’ 

“One of the scenes,” said Marie, “exhibited the cottage of a rob¬ 
ber, which was illuminated by a chandelier raised aloft among the oil 
painted scenery. By a fatal inattention the light was not extin¬ 
guished. The fire caught, and spread with rapidity; in less than five 


36 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


minutes the whole roof as well as the combustible material was in a 
blaze. In a moment the hilarity and joy were exchanged for the most 
agonizing sorrow and distress; shrieks, groans and death in its most 
terrific form closed the tragic scene. ’ ’ 

“Many who escaped with their lives were much scorched in the 
flames! ’ ’ interposed Cousin Betty. 

“Yes,” said Marie, “and the Senator, like many others, was tram¬ 
pled underfoot; but he managed to reach a window and threw himself 
from it. He was a cripple for two years after that night. ’ ’ 

“When the charred remains of his beloved ones were buried,” sad¬ 
ly continued Marie, ‘ 1 he was too ill to know anything about it. ’’ 

“How dreadful!” sighed Kitty. “You say that was nine years 
ago tonight ? Why, you were a small girl then, Miss Marie. Did the 
Senator know you at that time ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, indeed,” said Marie. “He has known me all my life; when 
he was home from school we had many rides and rambles together. 
The Senator’s attention to me has always been that of an elder 
brother, kind and thoughtful.” 

This was followed by a solemn silence. 

Kitty’s sad eyes and drawn lips plainly told her thoughts were 
sorrowful. 

“For pity’s sake, Kitty!” exclaimed Fannie, “don’t look like you 
are at a funeral.” 

“Oh, Fannie!” remonstrated Kitty, “I was thinking of the Sena¬ 
tor. How very lonely he must be! And I was also thinking of the 
multitude of precious and immortal souls, at a time they so little 
thought, were plunged into a world of spirits.” 

“Do pray talk of something that is not so sad,” pleaded Fannie. 
“It makes me feel awful.” 

She shrugged her shoulders. 

“Fannie!” kindly said Marie, “when we contemplate the close of 
life, the termination of man’s designs and hopes; and the silence that 
now reigns among those who a little while before were so happy and 
gay, we cannot avoid being touched with sensations at once awful and 
tender.” 

“Yes, I know that is all true, Marie, but, oh, it is too sad to think 
about, ’ ’ answered Fannie, running her fingers over the piano keys. 

She suddenly whirled around on the stool, her face beaming, and 
cried: 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


37 


Oh! Marie, did you hear brother say he would not follow in the 
chase longer than tonight ? ’ ’ 

“No,” Marie calmly replied. 

“I did,” said Fannie, “and so did Cousin Betty.” 

“Well, if he did say so, is there anything so very astonishing in 
it?” 

“Perhaps,” laughed Fannie. 

“Did he give his reason for not continuing in the chase?” asked 
Marie. 

“Yes, he did,” answered Fannie, striking the piano keys and hum¬ 
ming a tune. 

Marie was interested by that time, and said: 

“What was it?” 

“Ah!” exclaimed Fannie, with suspicious readiness. “You are 
quite sure you would like to know ? ’ ’ 

* ‘ Of course, Fannie! ’’ said Marie. ‘ ‘ What was brother’s reason ? ’ ’ 

Fannie lowered her head over the piano keys and slowly sung: 

“That he would be here to see Kitty home tomorrow.” 

“Oh, Fannie!” cried Kitty, flushed to the roots of her auburn hair. 
“You know mother will send the gig for me in the forenoon of to¬ 
morrow. ’ ’ 

Fannie got up from the piano and placed her arm around Kitty’s 
waist. 

‘ ‘ Shall I tell you, my dear, what I heard a gentleman say ? 9 9 

“Fannie!” reproved Marie, “I am surprised!” 

“Kitty, dear,“ Fannie fondly said, “don’t look like you are going 
to faint, or die, he only said: 

‘If that gig came here tomorrow, he would send it back the way it 
came, and he would see that Miss Kitty returned to her home in the 
same style she came to Cedar Hill.’ Of course, I approve,” added 
Fannie. 

“Do pray stop teasing, Fannie,” said Marie, very quietly, but 
wondering what next. 

“Aha!” murmured Cousin Betty. 

The next day while Judge Howell followed the hounds in the fox 
hunt, his son, the prospective heir of Cedar Hill estate, accompanied 
Miss Kitty Hughes, the carpenter’s daughter, to her modest home, in 
a coach drawn by two spirited horses, a coachman, and two footmen 
in attendance. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A Day at Fredericksburg. 

I T was a warm Saturday afternoon in July. All nature had been 
refreshed by a light rain; a gentle breeze sighed through the 
stately pines, and swayed the luxuriant foliage of numerous 
honeysuckle vines. 

It was a busy time in the barnyard at Cedar Hill; at least with 
three of the men servants; which was invariably the case when Miss 
Marie announced her intention to attend divine service at Fredericks¬ 
burg on the following Sabbath morning. 

The covered chaise was hauled from the carriage-house, dust re¬ 
moved, axles greased, the harness polished and hung on the wooden 
peg ready for the morrow. 

In the intervening time, two little girls with skin as brown as a 
cake of chocolate, a mass of kinky hair, which had an upward ten¬ 
dency, were trying to personate the young ladies of the ‘ ‘ gret ’ouse. ’ ? 

“Ise Miss Marie!” said Lucy, raising her blue and white plaid 
domestic dress with the tips of her fingers; she then gave her body a 
stately move before placing her bare foot on the step of the chaise. 

“Deed, I ain gwine lem yo be Miss Marie,” said Polly with some 
show of authority. 

‘ ‘ Yes, I is, gwine ter be Miss Marie, ’ ’ returned Lucy. 

“No, yo shant,” replied Polly. “Yo is Miss Fannie.” 

‘ ‘ What fur can’t I be Miss Marie ? ’ ’ asked Lucy. 

“Caze Ise bigger an yo is,” returned Polly. 

“Sho nuff,” said Lucy, quickly understanding Miss Fannie must 
be the smaller lady. 

Polly seated herself in the chaise as Miss Marie. 

With a hasty, nimble step Lucy took her seat without further ad¬ 
justment of her dress, slightly reclining, she said in a bright, sweet 
voice: 

“Drive on, Sam.” 

Natural mimics happy in their childish imagination. 

Sam turned to Isaac, who was polishing brass buttons that orna¬ 
mented his dark blue coat. 


38 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


39 


“Ike, yo knows what Ise gwine do?” 

“How I know whnt you gwine do?” said Isaac, “Yo nevah tol’ 
me.” 

“ ; Sho nuff,” said Sam. He paused and inspected a piece of harness. 

“Whuts de use yo foolin’ like dat, Sam, why an yo tol’ me whut 
yo gwine do ? ” 

“I reckon, Ike, I moutsle tell yo,” said Sam. “Tis no mo’ an dis:’ ? 

“Ise gwine ter ax Mar'sta ef I can’t rize a family.” 

“Befo’ de Lawd!” cried Isaac. “Is yo’, Sam, sho nuff?” 

“I sholy is, sah,” replied Sam. 

“Well, taint no mo’ an anybody could spec’,” alleged Isaac. “Who 
yo’ got eyes sot on, Sam?” 

“De likelies gal on de plantation,” Sam answered, with his thumbs 
thrust into the armholes of his vest, and his head thrown backward. 

“Ahem!” ejaculated Isaac, “spose yo’ means Mariah’s Tessa?” 

“No, sah,” replied Sam. 

“Who yo’ mean den?” asked Isaac. 

“I means Lizer, sah!” 

Isaac was entirely overcome by the declaration. He exclaimed: 

“Lawd, hav’ mussy on us!” 

“Whuts de matter wif yo’, Ike?” asked Sam, backing and elevating 
his elbows. 

“Why, niggah,” replied Isaac, “yo’ moutsle ax fo’ de Queen of 
Shebah. Dat Lizer! She’s too stuck up fo’ ter live; caze Miss Marie 
lar’end her to read an’ write an’ broid’ry, she thinks she’s white 
pusson, she do.” 

“Ah! yoes jellus, Ike,” sneered Sam. 

“No, sah, Ise not jellus,” declared Isaac. “But I knows Lizer 
aint gwine ter look at de likes of yo’. She wa’n’t bawn ’istiddy. So 
yo’ moutsle let her ’lone.” 

Here the conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a bell at 
the “great house.” 

How calm! How still! The silence broken only by the warbling of 
the tiny birds in- their songs of praise; all nature has affirmed: 

This is the Sabbath morn! 

Uncle Peter, mounted on old white Selim, rode in advance to open 
the gates, and remove any possible obstruction that might be in the 
road. Sam was always the careful driver of the one-horse chaise. 
Isaac followed in the rear; it was his business to dismount and close 
the gates after them. 


40 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


After three hours’ ride thus attended, Marie walked across the 
churchyard to the sanctuary. Lucy, whose kinks were then tied in 
position, followed close behind carrying the prayer book and the train 
of Miss Marie’s gown. 

That afternoon, seated on the porch of the home-like rectory, par¬ 
tially obscured in shrubbery, was Mrs. Morris, the amiable wife of 
Dr. G. H. Morris, the rector in charge, and Miss Marie Howell. 

The Doctor, who was Marie’s former rector, was standing in the 
garden path talking with a visitor who had just arrived. 

“Oh, Doctor!” called Mrs. Morris, “you talk too loud, we heard 
what you said.” 

‘ ‘ Tut! tut! ” responded the doctor, ‘ * I was only congratulating this 
happy gentleman, possibly adding a few compliments.” 

“Well, I declare, Miss Marie!” he merrily added, “what has caused 
those pale cheeks of yours to turn to a bed of roses?” 

Marie’s joy at seeing Mr. John Wilton was not disguised; the flush 
on her cheek and the smile on her lips told the tale. 

“Come up, John, take this chair,” said the doctor. “Don’t look at 
that lady’s face.” 

Useless admonition. 

How could he refrain from looking on a face that to him is truly 
beautiful ? 

“You were not at church this morning,” remarked Marie. 

“No. I was disappointed,” said Mr. Wilton. “I left a house full 
of visitors and had to manage well to get here at all. ’ ’ 

He moved his chair closer to Marie and softly said: 

“You know I was anxious to come.” 

“I expected to see you at church,” said Marie. “How did you 
know I was here ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I don’t know, ’ ’ he said, ‘ ‘ but something told me I would find you 
here today.” 

‘ ‘ I have been wishing you would stop here before you rode to Cedar 
Hill,” avowed Marie. ■ 

“I came directly here, thinking I would find you,”*said Mr. Wilton, 
smiling. 

“My dear John!’* said the doctor, “the mind was the messenger 
that carried that dispatch.” 

“Well, sir,” responded Mr. Wilton, in his quiet, easy manner, yet 
so perfectly courteous. “I presume you will agree that, if the mind 
was the messenger, the heart was the station. ’ ’ 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


41 


“Yes, John,” said the doctor, “her heart suggested the desire to 
her mind, and of course your mind was the recipient of the sug¬ 
gestion. ’ 7 

“Doctor, do you believe that possible?” asked Marie. 

“Yes, Miss Marie, for many years I have believed it possible, and 1 
know that outside our scientific knowledge there exists a force, exer¬ 
cised by intelligence, differing from the ordinary intelligence com¬ 
mon to man.” 

“Then, sir,” said Mr. Wilton, “you believe that thoughts may be 
transferred from one mind to another without the agency of the recog¬ 
nized organs of speech. 77 

“I certainly do, 77 the Doctor emphatically replied. 

“Have you ever received a mental dispatch, Doctor? 77 asked Marie. 

“Yes, many times, 77 answered the Doctor. “I remember one I 
received twenty years ago. It was in this way, 7 7 he added. 4 ‘ I knew 
a young man who had gone astray, he was the only son of a very dear 
friend. Sometimes he attended my church. I longed to speak to him 
from the pulpit. I waited and waited before the opportunity pre¬ 
sented itself. One Saturday morning, not thinking of Arthur War- 
field—that was his name—I was collecting matter to prepare my ser¬ 
mon for the next day, when to put it in plain words, John, my mind 
received this dispatch: 

“Arthur Warfield will attend service tomorrow morning. 77 

“Not paying much attention to the thought, I proceeded with my 
sermon; but it was not satisfactory, 77 said the Doctor. “It came so 
clearly to my mind that my young friend would be at church the next 
morning I laid aside the sermon I was preparing, and with the help of 
the good Lord prepared the sermon I intended for my young friend. 

“Imagine my feelings Sunday morning when I glanced over the 
congregation! I shall never forget it, 7 7 added the Doctor. 

“There sat Arthur Warfield. 

“0, how my soul was in that sermon, it was a sharp arrow, and it 
went deep into that dear boy’s heart. 77 

“Now,” said the Doctor, “he is an honor to his profession, a per¬ 
suasive and convincing advocate of religion, more by the upright un¬ 
impeachable tenor of his life, than by his excellent writings. Often 
has he referred to that Sunday and said: 

‘It was a moment great with eternal consequence when he decided 
that Saturday to remain in town, and hear me preach Sunday 
morning. 7 77 


42 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


At that moment the tea-hell rang. 

“There!” said Mrs. Morris, “that is a message for all of ns.” 

Soon Uncle Peter, Sam and Isaac returned to the rectory, discus¬ 
sing the merits of their respective friends whom they had visited that 
day in Fredericksburg. 

Before the sun had set, Marie took leave of her kind friends at the 
rectory. 

With Mr. John Wilton she returned to Cedar Hill; after spending 
a day of sweet social intercourse, of intellectual enjoyment and spirit¬ 
ual profit. 


CHAPTER IX. 


The Betrothal. 



HE announcement of the betrothal of the lovely, dignified Miss 


Marie Howell, and Mr. John Wilton, the wealthy, talented, 


gentleman of leisure, caused no surprise. Society approved 
and said: 

“I told you so!” 

When John Wilton made a formal proposal for the hand of Marie, 
Judge Howell gave his consent; although, owing to his prodigious 
selfishness, he could not help a little feeling of reluctance in doing so. 

To John Wilton he could find no possible objection, but his eyes 
would often rest longingly on the chestnutrail fence that divided his 
fine plantation from Senator Toft’s broad acres, where the corn was 
so high, and the land produced so many bushels of wheat to the acre. 

Then again, consoled the Judge, the Senator is unusually attentive 
to Fannie. 

It was no small comfort the Judge derived from the knowledge of 
John Wilton being the only son, and heir to Randolph Wilton’s im¬ 
mense estate on the Rappahannock river; which was well known as 
one of the finest farms in Virginia. 

The doors of Randolph Wilton’s mansion, boat-house and kennels 
Were thrown open at all times for the pleasure of visitors. 

Among the many friends, he frequently entertained was the Bishop 
and family of the Diocese of Virginia; also many of the most dis¬ 
tinguished men of that day. 

His brandy and wine flowed freely to all. 

Mrs. Lee, a refined lady iof reversed circumstances, who carried the 
keys and assisted as housekeeper for Mrs. Wilton, often found it 
perplexing to tend to the house-servants and so many visitors; par¬ 
ticularly when Miss Patty,—John’s only sister,—and his mother were 
off on a visit to Baltimore or Washington. 

John’s father, Mr. Randolph Wilton, was known as an enthusiastic 
horseman. 


43 


44 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


He reioiced in the possession of the renowned racer, “Nero,” that 
he purchased at an enormous price. 

He was a gentleman of an amiable disposition; his impulses were 
generous; he did not regard a slave as a piece of property dead and 
void of rights, but rather as a helpless or defenseless child; and was 
rewarded by the love and faithfulness of his many slaves. He was 
one of the most honest and upright of men; these was no pretense in 
him. 

It was well known that Mr. Wilton was ever watchful of his son 
John’s welfare. It was with heartfelt pleasure he so extensively 
planned for John and Marie’s future happiness. 


CHAPTER X. 


Father and Son. 

F ANNIE in her gay colored chintz dress which contrasted so 
brightly with her dark hair and eyes, was seated in the broad 
window-sill of Marie’s chamber, intently watching an em¬ 
broidered pattern Marie was transferring on a slip of linen that she 
was holding against the windowpane. 

Fannie breaks the silence. 

“Marie those scollops are beautifully drawn. Are you going to 
give that slip to Hester to embroider ?” 

“Yes, Fannie,” answered Marie, “Hester does her work so nicely, 
I rather she would do all this fine linen. I will draw off another pat¬ 
tern for you.” 

“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Fannie, taking a roll of embroidery 
from her work-box. 4 4 I have not finished this yet. Of course, Marie, 
you do not expect mine to look as well as Hester’s.” 

“Hardly, Fannie,” replied Marie, “I never saw anyone so skillful 
in the art as Hester is. And that hemstitching she did for me yester¬ 
day is perfect.” 

4 4 Hester certainly knows how to use the needle, said Fannie. 4 4 Tues¬ 
day when I went over to her cabin she had several girls from the 
4 Quarter ’ teaching them to sew. I thought she looked mighty pretty, 
her straight black hair combed down over her temples, was caught 
up in a large coil, and held by the comb you gave her last Christmas. 
She looked so tall and lady-like standing over those awkward girls,” 

44 Hester is a fine looking woman!” said Marie. “Many a brunette 
belle has a much darker skin than she has. And I will venture to 
say, ’ ’ added Marie , 4 4 there are few ladies anywhere, more careful with 
their toilet than Hester is. 

44 You mean regarding cleanliness,” said Fannie, thoughtfully. 

44 Of course, I do; Hester has no fine clothes.” 

45 


46 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“Oh, dear, there is the dinner bell!“ Marie exclaimed. “And I 
wanted to take this over to Hester before dinner. However, I shall 
send Eliza. Fannie, please hurry,” urged Marie, “do not keep father 
waiting. 

“That is only the first call.” replied Fannie, “I shall be ready in 
time. You go on.” 

Eliza with the roll of work in her hand walked a short distance 
down the east side yard, to a small white cabin nearly covered by 
Virginia creeper, and half hidden from the “great house” by the 
hawthorn hedge. 

It was superior to any other cabin on the plantation. 

Eliza entered a tidy room with a spotless bed, and found Hester 
Morton, the mulatto slave, the seamstress of Cedar Hill, sitting by 
a table reading a letter; not a new letter; but one she had read and 
re-read. It was from Mr. Horace Morton, of Boston, giving a few 
points in a famous law suit he had gained for his client. 

Hester Morton originally came from South Carolina. When Judge 
Howell’s father bought her she was a small child; she was then taught 
not only plain sewing, but, also to embroider, and other fine needle 
work. 

Hester with many other slaves was willed to the Judge when he 
fell heir to Cedar Hill estate. 

The toils and troubles of years had slightly hardened the lines in 
Hester’s once strikingly fine face; still there remained a pleasing se¬ 
renity. 

Lady Mildred managed Hester as she did every slave on the land; 
with the kindest consideration. But why, she would never allow 
Hester, who was her seamstress, to live in the “great house” was a 
mystery to many persons. 

The family was seated at the dinner table. Tecumseh brought in a 
plate of hot buscuits, he was softly muttering: 

“Ise not gwine ter say ah word! None ef my business ef folks gits 
married! ’ ’ 

The dinner went on the same, no one at the table paid any atten¬ 
tion to his mutterings. 

He took up a pitcher of water stepped slowly around to cousin 
Betty’s chair, and said in a louder voice: 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


47 


“Deed, Ise not gwine ter say ah word! I say ef I wa’n’t no bet’er 
off ’an her daddy was, I’d ’gree ter be drownded! But Ise not gwine 
ter say ah word!” 

The Judge looked up. 

“What is that negro talking about, madam?” He asked cousin 
Betty. 

“I spec Miss Betty don’t know, Marsta,” said Tecumseh. 

Cousin Betty indifferently replied: 

“No, that I don’t,—nor you either.” 

“In co’se, Miss Betty,” said Tecumseh, “Ise not gwine ter say ah 
word, ef Marsta Willem do marry Widow Hughes daughter Kitty.” 

“You infernal rascal,” cried the Judge rising from the table. “How 
dare you talk in that manner before me, sir.” 

Deed Marsta, ’ ’ pleaded Tecumsah, backing toward the outer door, 

“Sam dat was down by Widow Hughes’ dis mawnin, saw deys old 
niggah grabblin taters, he don say Marsta Willem es gwine ter git 
married ter Miss Kitty two ’clock ter day. ’ ’ 

“dread God!” exclaimed the proud Judge. 

He was greatly excited and walked the floor with nervous steps, his 
form quivering with the intensity of his emotion. 

“My horse!” demanded the Judge. 

Ephraim, whose business it was to attend to his Master’s personal 
wants, rushed from the room. In less than five minutes the horse Was 
at the door, Judge Howell mounted and on the road to Widow 
Hughes’ little white cottage, leaving a cloud of dust far behind him. 

The Judge dismounted at the paling gate and with his habitual 
dignity he walked up the narrow path to the vine covered porch. 

The cottage door was standing open, the Judge heard the minister 
say: 

“I pronounce you man and wife. 

It required no further manifestation to know Judge Howell had 
heard those words than to see his clinched hands, and compressed lips, 
as he sat on the side bench of the little porch. 

“Ah, here is Judge Howell!” kindly spoke the trim little widow, 
“How do you do, sir? Won’t you come in?” 

“Thank you, madam,” replied the Judge, “I will sit here.” 

‘ ‘ Are you ill, sir ? ” she asked. 

“No, I am not ill; I thank you madam.” 


48 Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

“You look so very pale, sir,” she said, “I will fetch you a glass of 
cordial. ’ ’ 

“Thank you, madam, I do not need it,” replied the Judge in his 
austere manner. “You will oblige me to say to Mr. William Howell, 
his father wishes to see him here for a few moments.” 

William received the message and hastened to his father. 

“Oh! father, you are ill, what shall I do for you? ”he anxiously 
inquired. 

The Judge stood and looked, at William. 

“What you could have done, sir,” slowly replied the Judge, “can 
never be done now. And what I suffer this day of disappointment 
of hope, of confidence, of an honorable gentleman, you will never 
know. ’ ’ 

William was greatly embarrassed. 

“Father,” he began. 

The Judge quickly waved his hand and turned his head aside; 
plainly indicating he wished his son not to reply to him. 

“Of course, you do know, sir,” said the mortified Judge. “Your 
station in life will never be as it has been. The slaves I loaned you, 
I wish returned to Cedar Hill. Aspen Grove, and the slaves I gave 
you, are yours, do the best you can with them; for by God, sir, I 
swear: 

“It is the last farthing you ever receive from me. Also bear in 
mind, sir, when I wish to see you, I will appraise you of it.” 

“Good day, sir,” said the Judge with a majestic wave of his small, 
white hand. 

The Judge returned to Cedar Hill in a much slower pace. He 
entered his chamber and closed the door. Although it was not locked, 
no one of the family, had courage to go to his door and make inquiry 
concerning his welfare. 

Judge Howell gave laws to his household, but he wrote no law of 
love in their hearts. 

The next morning the Judge appeared at the breakfast table in 
his natural silent, austere manner, with no visible trace of a proud 
man’s mental anguish. Still his daughters nor cousin Betty could 
feel sufficiently free from the restraint his silence caused, to enter into 
conversation, and they were positive it would not be pleasant for 
the one who mentioned William’s name. 


CHAPTER XI. 


A Mechanic Not Regard able. 

A FEW days after William’s marriage, as usual, John Wilton 
called at Cedar Hill. Marie met him on the veranda. She 
cautiously whispered: 

“John, have you heard about William?” 

“Yes, sweetheart,” he cheerfully replied. “I have heard William 
is very happy.” 

4 * Happy! ’ ’ exclaimed Marie. ‘ ‘ How can he be happy, when he has 
made father so unhappy?” 

John Wilton shook his head doubtfully. 

‘ ‘My dear, ’ ’ he said, “tell me what fearful thing William has done. ’ ’ 
“Why—he is married—and—” 

“Yes, I know, sweetheart,” he quickly interrupted, stealing his arm 
around Marie’s slender waist. “And,” he said, “I do not think Wil¬ 
liam committed a crime by marrying the woman he loved. ’ ’ 

Marie’s face slightly colored. 

“Have you seen William since?” she inquired. 

“Yes, dearest, ’ ’ he answered, ‘ 1 I was at Aspen Grove this morning. ’ ’ 
“And you say William is happy,” asked Marie. 

“Perfectly happy,” he replied. “I never saw a more devoted 
or better suited couple; both know how much they possess in each 
other. William thinks he is blessed with a pious, faithful wife, one 
in whom Solomon says: 

‘A man’s heart may safely rely.’ ” 

•‘Moreover,” continued John Wilton, “he told me it was not neces¬ 
sary for every man’s courtship to last seven years. And you know 
what, sweetheart,” queried John, drawing his arm a little closer, “I 
agreed with William in that, too.” 

To avoid a direct reply, Marie said: “Were you not greatly sur¬ 
prised when you heard of William’s marriage?” 

“I was more surprised when I heard William had entered the 
nupital state than I was at his choice. ’ ’ 

“You were! Why?” asked Marie. 

49 


50 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“Because he is so devoted to the classics. I did not suppose,” con¬ 
tinued John, “there was a young lady in the whole county who could 
supplant that little book of Homer’s Iliad in ‘William’s affection. I 
never knew him to be without that book in his pocket; of the most 
difficult rythm he repeats page after page without an error.” 

“Yes, he has a surprising memory,” said Marie. “And father was 
so pleased with William’s knowledge of books.” 

“Of course! but not of his knowledge of the world. Which I 
think,” added John, “does not always require experience.” 

“That is just the trouble!” exclaimed Marie. “William must have 
thought the experience he has had at Aspen Grove gave him sufficient 
knowledge of the world to sail forth.” 

“Well, perhaps it did,” John calmly replied. 

“But John,” said Marie, “William has disregarded father’s wish 
in his choice of a wife.” 

“Sweetheart, did William know his father’s wish?” 

“He certainly did,” answered Marie. “William has known for a 
long time it would please father if he married Belle Garland.” 

“Indeed!” exclaimed John. “The Senator remarked this morn¬ 
ing he thought Miss Belle would have been William’s choice.” 

“We all thought so,” returned Marie. “And we did not know he 
had ceased to pay Belle attention. ’ ’ 

“I pity William,” said John kindly, “he is grieved that he dis¬ 
pleased his father, but hopes his father will soon think better of him. ’ ’ 

“Think better!” ejaculated Marie, “John, father will never for¬ 
give William, for—” 

Marie paused. 

1 ‘ For what, sweetheart ? ” he tenderly asked. 

“For forfeiting his social standing by marriage,” Marie slowly 
replied. 

“Is it possible!” John uttered. “Would the Judge have William 
forsake Miss Kitty whom he loves truly, honestly, and sincerely when 
her only fault is being the daughter of a mechanic ? ’ ’ 

“You know, John,” reminded Marie, “how we have been taught 
to shun and look upon ‘a mechanic not as regardable.” 

“Yes, I do know, sweetheart, we Virginians have been taught “To 
labor is a disgrace. Yet, my dear, it is a mistake,” continued John 
with solemn tenderness. “Labor, although connected with the curse 
pronounced upon man in consequence of his sin, must yet be consid- 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


51 


ered as a blessing. Man’s physical, mental and moral conditions ren¬ 
der it necessary to his welfare. The general law of equity requires 
it.” 

John paused and took Marie’s hand. 

“Tell me, sweetheart, if you were in William’s place, would you be 
willing to sacrifice love for ambition ? ’ ’ 

“Never, John!” Marie earnestly replied, giving him a look that 
was all love and tenderness. 

“If the man you loved—if I—were a mechanic, what then?” asked 
John. 

Marie laughed. 

* ‘ I cannot think of you in that way, John. ’ ’ 

“Of course, dear, I shall never be a mechanic—but, if I were?” 
John persisted. 

Marie raised her eyes, they met his eager gaze; she modestly as¬ 
sured him: 

“John, I would have you then as now.” 

“iSo, sweetheart,” he affectionately resumed. “William knew ex¬ 
actly what he ought to do, and having the fortitude to obey the dic¬ 
tates of his heart and conscience, we need not fear for his happiness. ’ ’ 

“For my part, I do not fear for William’s happiness or Kitty’s 
either,” frankly spoke Marie. “Kitty’s mother has taken much pains 
to instruct her in the art of housekeeping, and that, added to the 
learning she has acquired at school, has made her one of the marvels 
of the day.” 

John was dubious. 

‘ ‘ What do you mean by that, sweetheart ? ” he asked. 

Marie looked at him as if pleased. 

“A useful as well as accomplished young lady,” she replied with 
a profound bow. 


CHAPTER XII. 


John and the Senator. 

O NE pleasant afternoon in October, John Wilton closed the 
book of Poems he had been reading to Marie, and looked 
toward the river. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, “Here comes the Judge and the Senator.” 

“Let us go meet them!” suggested Marie, laying aside the lace 
she was knitting. 

“Come on!” said John readily. 

Slowly they descended the broad steps of the veranda that held 
back Marie’s soft train, from which peeped her tiny slippered foot. 
“Well, I declare!” she said, “Fannie is with them.” 

“They have been out sailing,” replied John. 

“They have?” Marie was surprised. 

“Yes, they invited me to accompany them.” 

‘ ‘ And you declined! As dearly as you love the water! ’ ’ said Marie. 
“Of course, I did,” was the emphatic reply. “And well do you 
know, sweetheart, there was more 'attraction for me, on land . 9 ’ 

He fondly raised her hand to his lips then placed it within his arm. 
She smiled confidingly. 

They walked on slowly and silently with a joy far sweeter than 
words could express, 

Fannie saw them coming towards her she waited at the rustic seat. 
“Oh, you all missed it!” She cried, “We have had a lovely time! 
The Sea Cull flew up the river like a bird! ’ ’ 

“I am real glad you enjoyed the sail Fannie,” responded Marie. 
“But, it would not have given me the same pleasure.” 

“Why not, Miss Marie?” Asked the Senator, “It was delightful.” 
“Because I am afraid of the water.” said Marie. 

“To be sure,” allowed the Senator, “I remember. But there was 
one thing you would have taken great pleasure in seeing.” 

“What was that?” she asked. 

“The sun set, as we saw it.” Replied the Senator. 

52 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


53 


“Listen to our poet!” cried John merrily. “Rather, Marie”; he 
quickly rectified, “I should warn you, if you do listen to him, you 
will forget you are on the banks of the Potomac river, and lose your¬ 
self at Athens the eye of ancient Greece, or think you are on the banks 
of Ilyssus with Socrates. ’ ’ 

The- Senator laughed heartily. 

“He is bantering me, Miss Marie,” the Senator explained. 

John shook his head dismally. 

“Well, old fellow!” The Senator kindly said to John, “Now I 
think of it, I suspect too much of my time has been occupied with 
ancient literature of late. I shall try to do better. As to being a poet, ’ ’ 
added the Senator, “I think I would not like the vocation. Your 
talent is decidely more that way. It is you, sir, who sings of Elysian 
fields.’ ’ 

The Senator paused and quoted in a tone which reached John’s 
ear alone: 

“It is because the poet is at heaven’s gate that he sings.” 

John smiled, with a happy light in his handsome dark eyes. 

“However, Miss Marie,” said the Senator, “I think it is uncle 
Peter who has poetry in his soul this time. He was out fishing when 
he saw the bright sky richly tinted with purple, gold and red, he stood 
up in his boat in a tragic attitude and shouted: 

“Look yonder chillen! Thars de power an’ de glory! Thar et es, 
thar et es! Praise de Lawd, thars de power an’ de glory!” 

The Judge glanced at Peter’s boat. 

“I know nothing of Peter’s poetic nature,” he said, “but, I do 
know, he is a successful fisherman: this minute his canoe is full of 
fine trout.” 

“I wonder,” said John, “if his skill is equal to the fisherman of 
lake Gennesaret who had the same name. ’ ’ 

“Peter, to whom you refer,” returned the Judge, toiled all night 
without any success.” 

“Yes,” said John, “but when Jesus commanded him to try again, 
his obedience was rewarded with wonderful success.” 

‘ ‘ A beautiful lesson! ’ ’ quietly observed Marie. 

“And one that teaches us,” said John. “Labor is ours; success is 
God’s.” 

Just then Tecumseh rang the supper bell from the side porch. 


54 Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

“Come to supper!” invited the Judge, “Mistress Betty has sent 
to call us,” 

Aunt Mariah, their excellent cook had the table well provided with 
the largest trout and oysters, brown and crisp, flaky biscuits, corn- 
pone rich with cream and eggs, accompanied with a variety of sweets 
and pickles. 

Tecumseh was attentive, and happy in a bright plaid necktie, a 
recent gift of Mr. John Wilton. No matter what deficiency there was 
in Tecumseh’s dress, the only thing needful to complete his happiness 
was, a bright new necktie. 

Although those October days were warm and balmy, the evenings 
were too cool to sit in the parlor without a small fire in the arch, 
which dispersed abundant heat and gave a cheerful warmth. 

Cousin Betty, who had joined the family and visitors in the parlor, 
way sitting erect before the fire plying the knitting needles, and en¬ 
joying John Wilton’s reading. 

John was incomparable in that elegant accomplishment. Shake- 
spere was his favorite author. Many of his friends who were familiar 
with his recitations and readings, would frankly say: 

“To hear Mr. Wilton read Shakespeare is equal to seeing the play.” 

On this particular evening he read Macbeth. John had made a 
study of each character by itself, consequently his reading was de¬ 
lightful. 

When he closed the book, the Judge stook and bowed to him, then 
in his usual dignified manner he courteously said: 

* 1 Thank you, sir! Thank you! I almost forgot your personality and 
imagined I could see the different persons of the play.” 

John acknowledged the compliment. 

Then followed a general silence; the company more inclined to 
think over the play, than to talk about it. 

All but Fannie, who was a young lady of great vivacity,—she liked 
neither silence nor sadness. With a sudden brightness in her face 
she exclaimed: 

“Senator, what is the name of that song you were humming this 
afternoon ? ’ ’ 

“Let me think!” The Senator thought a moment with folded 
hands and cast down eyes. 

“Oh! You mean while we were sailing, Miss Fannie?” 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


55 


“Yes, we were certainly sailing,” Fannie replied with animation, 
“almost flying.” 

“Oh, that was an old sea song,” said the Senator, “written by 
Lord Dorset, the night before an engagement with the Dutch, during 
the reign of Charles II.” 

“I remember it,” said Marie. “I have it with a collection of old 
English songs. Not all, but most of them are written in parts by 
English composers during the reign of Henry VII and Henry VIII.” 

Marie opened the top of a card-table and took from the inner part 
the song-book. She gave it to the Senator saying: 

“My mother used it when a girl in England.” 

“I did not think the English loved music so well!” remarked 
cousin Betty. 

“Well, Miss Betty!” responded the Senator, “England taken gen¬ 
erally is now, decidely not a musical country. But, it appears at one 
time to have had considerable claims to that distinction, and to have 
merited the name of ‘Merry England;’ by the universal prevalence 
of song and minstrely.” 

“There is one sweet simple song in that old book that has never 
lost its popularity!” interposed the Judge. 

“Which one is that, sir?” asked John Wilton, who was looking 
through the book as the Senator turned the leaves. 

“Sally in our Alley, is the name of the song I referred to,” replied 
the Judge. 

“Ah, yes; that was once a great song!” said John. “And known 
from one kingdom to another. Henry Carey struck into a new path 
when he wrote that song. I have read,” continued John, “that it was 
a great favorite with Addison, who was one of the most elegant writers 
of that period.” 

4 4 There, Senator! ’’ exclaimed Fannie, ‘ 1 There is that sea, song. Do 
pray sing it. ’ 9 

44 1 never sing, Miss Fannie, I can only hum a tune , 9 ’ said the Sena¬ 
tor, by way of apology. “It is John who sings.” 

At John’s especial request, Marie had dropped the formal Mister; 
but Fannie had not, when the Senator said: “It is John who sings.” 
Fannie quickly turned to John and said: 

“ Oh! Mr. Wilton, do, please do sing it. ’ ’ 

“I will try Miss Fannie.” John was extremely nice on points of 
etiquette, he said, “Will you accompany me?” 


56 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“Dear, me! exclaimed Fannie, hanging her head. “You will have 
to ask Marie to do that. ’ 9 

“Certainly,” said Marie, walking toward the piano, “I shall be 
delighted to accompany you, sir.” 

John placed the stool in postition at the piano, and seated Marie 
with becoming gallantry. 

The stern Judge was evidently pleased. 

Marie played a soft prelude: immediately after, John Wilton’s 
grand voice, deep and mellow sounded through the large room in the 
old sea song. The first two verses ran: 

“To all you ladies now at land 
Wei men at sea indite, 

But, first would have you understand 
How hard it is to yrrite. 

The muses now, and Neptune too, 

We must implore to write to you. 

With a fa, la, la, la, la.” 

“But though the muses should prove kind 
And fill our empty brain; 

Yet, if rough Neptune rouse the wind 
To wave the azure main; 

Our paper, pen, and ink, and we, 

Roll up and down our ship at sea. 

With a fa, la, la, la, la.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Marie Trousseau. 


HRISTMAS night Judge Howell gave a grand soiree in honor 



of the four young ladies who were to act as Marie’s brides- 


— A maids. These young ladies were making a week’s visit to 
Marie: each one longing to assist in the preparation of the approach¬ 
ing wedding, which was to take place on New Year’s day. 

The next afternoon, following Christmas night, six merry young 
ladies, void of every care, were lolling in Marie’s Chamber, chatting 
on the delightful entertainment of the previous evening, and also 
commenting on the splendid appearance of some of their friends. 

Presently the door opened, and cousin Betty, with a smiling face, 
looked in. She said : 

‘‘Marie, the box has come from New York.” 

“Oh, Marie, have it brought up here!” requested Edmonia Car¬ 
ter, “I am dying to see it opened.” 

“Oh, yes please do!” urged Fannie Hftrvie, jumping off the bed. 

Fannie started to run down stairs, she turned back, and said: 

“Shall I tell Sam to bring it up, Marie?” 

A knowing smile broke over Marie’s face. 

“Yes, Fannie,” she said, “tell Sam to bring the box up here.” 

In a moment Sam stood at the chamber door, with a light wooden 
box resting on his hatless head. 

“Come on, Sam!” “Hurry!” “Bring it in here!” was the 
chorus that greeted him. 

I spec yo’ want’d me fo’ ter open de box an’ I fotched de hatchet, 
Miss Marie.” 

‘ ‘ That is right, Sam, ’ ’ she kindly replied. ‘ ‘ Of course, I want you 
to open it.” 

A group of happy girls formed a circle around Sam, patiently 
watching him remove each nail from the much prized box. 

They were all quiet for a minute or two; questions began to look 
out of their eyes. 

Sallie Brown was always quick in speech, and movement, was also 
quick to loose patience. 


57 


58 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


‘‘ My goodness, Sam! ’ ’ she exclaimed. ‘ ‘ You are awfully poky! ’ ’ 

‘‘Can’t holp et, Missus,” drawled Sam, “Massta don tol’ me ter 
be kerful ’bout dem nails,” 

Soon Sam stepped aside, the lid was off the box, the white paper 
removed, then the white muslin cover opened. 

“Oh, isn’t it lovely! Isn’t it magnificent!” were the words of 
praise and wonder, as Fannie Harvie shook out the folds of the 
white satin gown with a train of enormous length. 

Sallie carefully lifted a roll of cobweb fabric. 

“This is the vail!” she exclaimed. “How beautiful!” “And 
look girls, these are the orange blossoms! Aren’t they exquisite?” 

Sallie laid the blossoms on Marie’s golden hair. 

“Oh, Marie; you will look lovely!” she admiringly said. “What is 
the matter, Marie, are you ill or dead?” still looking at Marie. 

“Neither, I hope, Sallie,” laughed Marie. 

“W^ell, I declare if these fixings were mine,” said Sallie, I would 
be in the seventh heaven of bliss, but you have not said one word, 
Marie. ’ ’ 

Marie seemed to recover her happy spirits ; although an earnest¬ 
ness marked her features when she said: 

“Sallie, you do not know—how should you?—the pleasure they 
give me.” 

“I know you are pleased, and happy, too,” said Sallie winding 
her arm around Marie. ‘ ‘ And I also know you were lost in thought 
when I spoke to you,” added Sallie. 

“I believe I was thinking,” slowly responded Marie, with a puz¬ 
zled look. 

“Tell us your thoughts!” exclaimed Virginia Smith, merrily. 

Pon my word, Virginia, interposed Edmonia, “you know Marie 
is not going to do that. ’ ’ 

“Really, girls,” Marie sweetly said, “I could not tell you just 
what my thoughts were; they came and left like a shadow.” 

“Aha!” muttered Sallie Brown, with a suspicious smile. “I 
would rather think of the substance than of his shadow.” 

Marie and the girls laughed. 

“Heigh! look at Marie’s blushes!” teased Sallie. 

“Never mind, Marie,” soothed Virginia. “We all know your 
thoughts were of a certain worthy gentleman.” 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


59 


“I wonder,” said Edmonia, drawing a deep breath and opening 
her eyes very wide, “if the rest of us girls will have thoughts of 
one so honorable, handsome and wealthy as he is. ’ ’ 

“I can tell you what my mother said,” ventured Fannie Harvie, 
brightening up. 

“What was that, Fannie?” asked Edmonia. 

“I have heard her frequently say,” replied Fannie, “there is 
none to surpass Mr. John Wilton, and few to equal him.” 

“That seems to be the general opinion,” quietly remarked Ed¬ 
monia, straightening the folds of the white satin gown she had laid 
on the bed. 

“Marie, aren’t you going to try on your gown?” asked Sallie. 

Marie looked at her watch. 

“It is too late now,” she answered. “It is time you girls were 
dressing for supper. You know we are to have company this eve¬ 
ning. 

The young ladies scattered to their rooms to dress. 

Marie rang her bell. She said to Eliza, who answered it: 

“This is the gown, Eliza. Isn’t it beautiful?” 

Eliza paused in wonder. 

“Its de puttiest thing I ever saw in all my life. I knows yo’ll 
look like an angel, Miss Marie.” “Do it fit yo’, Miss Marie?” 

“Of course it will fit me,” Marie replied, “but I have not tried 
it on yet. I shall try it on tomorrow when I have more time.” 
Now I must hurry and dress. Before you comb my hair, Eliza, fold 
the gown nicely, put it, and all these things, in the large chest. 

One by one the white frocks of various materials, which were ex¬ 
tremely soft and delicate (softness being a requisite of style), had 
been brought out for the young ladies to see. According to Marie’s 
instruction, Eliza had packed them in trunks with some of the 
most elegant dresses that had ever been seen in that community. 
Even the French calicoes that were made for morning housewear 
had their share of attention. 

It was understood the honeymoon would be spent in the city of 
New York. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


Captain Lancaster. 

O N the same day Marie’s wedding gown arrived from New 
York, Captain Lancaster (a man of courtly manners, fitted 
by nature to shine in any society), and Mr. Randolph Wil¬ 
ton were returning from a three days’ fox hunt. Thirty-five brown- 
and-white yelping hounds had been sent home with the other sports¬ 
men. 

When the Captain and Mr. Wilton rode up to the tavern by the 
road-side, they were having quite a dispute about the distance— 
south or farther west—and then turn south to Mr. Wilton’s home, 
Wilton Hall, on the Rappahannock River. 

4 4 Since the distance interests you so much, Captain, stop here, and 
I will prove it to you,” said Mr. Wilton. He had only recently known 
the Captain. 

44 Say, Sheriff Barnes!” called Mr. Wilton to one of the men sitting 
on the porch of the tavern. 4 4 1 would like to ask your opinion about 
a certain distance. ’ ’ 

44 What’s that, sir?” yawned the Sheriff, still sitting on the wooden 
settee, with the back of his head resting in the palms of his hands. 

44 I want to know,” said Mr. Wilton, 44 which you think the greater 
distance from the culvert to my home—the road south from the cul¬ 
vert, or the road farther west that turns south ? ’ ’ 

44 Of course,” said the Sheriff dropping his hands, 44 the distance is 
much greater going directly south from the culvert. ’ ’ 

The Captain appeared disgusted. 

44 My Lord, Mr. Wilton!” he exclaimed, 44 I don’t care what Sheriff 
Barnes or any other man says. I say it is not so.” 

44 Why Captain!” said Mr. Wilton, 44 I would not be afraid to bet 
all I possess in the world that— 

4 4 What did you say, sir ? ’ ’ hastily interrupted the Captain. 

44 I say as I said before,” returned Mr. Wilton, 44 that I can reach 
my home in less time by taking the west road that turns south, than 
you can by riding directly south from the culvert. 

60 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


61 


“You said you were not afraid to bet,” shouted the Captain. 

“Yfes, ” quietly replied Mr. Wilton, “I said I Would not be afraid 
to bet.” 

“I dare you to make the bet against all I possess,” cried the Cap¬ 
tain. 

“Pshaw, Captain Lancaster! I do not wish your possessions, sir.” 

The Captain sneered. “I thought you would be afraid.” 

“Indeed, sir,” politely said Mr. Wilton. “You misunderstand 
me; I am positive of the distance.” 

The Captain advanced to Mr. Wilton in an arrogant manner. 

“Now I want to know, Mr. Wilton, if you will take up this bet?” 
Now listen: 

“If we part at the culvert, you go west to the south turn of the road 
and I take the direct road south from the culvert, that you will reach 
Wilton Hall before I do,” 

‘ ‘ That is what I said, Captain, ’ ’ Mr. Wilton readily acknowledged. 

“But you said you were not afraid to bet,” cried the Captain, 
smiling to hide his meanness. 

“And I still say I am not afraid to bet,” returned Mr. Wilton. “I 
know there is a bend in the west road, which makes the distance much 
less,” and, added Mr. Wilton, “by taking the south road, which is 
crooked, you will have three hills to climb. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I say, sir, it is not so! ” exclaimed the Captain. ‘ ‘ And I will bet 
all I possess against all your possessions, that I can reach Wilton 
Hall before you do if we part at the culvert, you going by the west 
road and turn south, and I go directly south from the culvert. ’ ’ 

“All right, Captain!” laughed Mr. Wilton. “We shall both reach 
Wilton Hall in time for a good supper. ’ ’ 

“Come inside, gentlemen,” eagerly summoned the Captain. “I 
wish you all to witness this business transaction. ’ ’ 

Ten or twelve men crowded into the small bar-room. 

“Give us pen and paper,” requested the Captain of the proprietor. 

The paper was duly drawn, and while being signed Mr. Wilton 
whispered to Sheriff Barnes: 

‘ ‘ Captain would not be convinced, but I shall return every farthing 
to him; I do not want his possessions. ’ ’ 

Schafer, Mr. Wilton’s body servant, who was a type of the old Vir¬ 
ginia negro gentleman, stood nearby with bowed head, and stored 
every word that passed between his Master and the Captain. 


62 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


Without further delay the Captain and Mr. Wilton mounted their 
horses and started off. Schafer also mounted and followed them. 
When they reached the culvert the Captain suggested to Mr. Wilton: 

“Let us stop a few moments. I have a bottle of fine imported 
brandy.” He offered it to Mr. Wilton, who in return took out his 
bottle. They exchanged drinks. Mr. Wilton gave his bottle with the 
remaining contents to Schafer. 

Then Mr. Wilton turned to the west, and the Captain to the south 
road. 

“I shall save you some supper, Captain,” laughed Mr. Wilton. 

“All right,” was the brief response. 

When Mr. Wilton had ridden about two miles, he said to Schafer, 
who was trying to keep up with him: 

“Schafer, I am quite sick!” “I shall hasten home; you follow more 
leisurely. ’ ’ 

“Yes, Massta,” returned Schafer. 

“Go long, Nero!” said Mr. Wilton. The noble black horse seemed 
to know just what was required of him. The moment his Master spoke 
he went off at a full gallop. 

Although Schafer regretted the indisposition of his Master, he re¬ 
joiced that his Master was forced to reached Wilton Hall long before 
the Captain could possibly get there. 

With a light heart he trotted on to the curve of the west road and 
had turned south, when he saw Nero standing by a large oak tree and 
Mr. Wilton on the ground, with his back against the tree, his face 
as pale as death. 

Quickly dismounting, Schafer cried: 

“Oh, Massta Randolph! You’es mighty sick, sah! Shall I fetch 
de doctor?” 

“No, Schafer, not now,” Mr. Wilton’s voice trembled. “I wish to 
ask you something.” 

“Yes, Massta.” 

“Did Captain Lancaster give you his bottle?” 

“No, my Massta,” Schafer slowly answered while shaking his head. 

“Did you get a drink from the Captain’s bottle?” asked Mr. Wil¬ 
ton. 

“No, my Massta! that I nevah; no mo’ den he did, sah, fo’ when 
yo’ drinked he put it in his pocket ag’in.” 

“Are you sure, Schafer?” 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


63 


“Yes, my Massta. I swhar it. De Cap’n drinked yo’es brandy and 
yo’es de onlyest one that drinked his brandy, den he pnt his bottle in 
his pocket. ’ ’ 

Great God! ’ ’ Mr. Wilton exclaimed. *■ ‘ It must be true! ” “ There 
was something in that bottle that has made me very ill.” 

“Schafer,” Mr. Wilton moaned, “rub my legs; they are so cold!” 

( ‘ Oh! the cramp is coming again. My legs are freezing! ” he cried. 

Massta Randolph, please lem me mount Nero. Ill soon fetch de 
doctor. ’ ’ 

“No, no, Schafer, don’t leave me now. It is too late, now.” “Great 
God!” he cried, with sudden energy. “It is too late! Captain Lan¬ 
caster has possession!” “What shall I do?” Hie tried to rise, but 
had no use of his legs. ‘ ‘ Oh, what shall I do! What shall I do! ” “0 
God, what a fearful thing I have done! ’ ’ 

“Schafer!” he said, do you see anyone coming?” 

“No, my Massta. Not a soul.” 

“Oh John,” cried Mr. Wilton. “My dear son; if you were only 
here. I know you will forgive your misguided father”— 

He paused for his breath came heavily. 

‘ ‘ Schafer! ” he softly called. 

“Yes, Massta.” 

“I am dying!” 

“No, my Massta, don’t say that,” he cried. His countenance the 
picture of despair. 

“Schafer, tell your Mistress all you have seen and heard that 
passed between Captain Lancaster and myself this day.” 

“Yes, Massta.” 

“Oh, how can I ask them to forgive me!” cried Mr. Wilton. 

In his dying struggle he was thinking of the loved ones he had so 
fearfully, but unintentionally wronged. 

“0 God! ” he moaned, * c would I had died before this day dawned. ’ ’ 

“Schafer!” he cried, writhing in pain. “The cramp is coming 
again. I am so cold!” 

Yes, Massta Randolph, replied Schafer, almost choked with emotion. 
Schafer was a larger man than his Master. He took off his own 
coat and tenderly placed it over the helpless man, and continued to 
rub the cold, stiff limbs. 

Poor Schafer. He knew those limbs would never be warm again. 
And he also knew what that terrible bet meant to him. 


64 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


As Mr. Wilton lay there on the cold, hard ground, the cold sweat 
streaming from his pale face, he gazed on the blue sky through the 
leafless branches of the great oak tree and faintly quoted: 

“For what is a man profited, if he should gain the whole world and 
lose his own soul. ’ ’ 

“Ah, Schafer!” he cried, “all my world is lost. Will my soul be 
lost, too ? ’ ’ 

Schafer, kneeling on the ground by his Master’s side among the 
acorns and the fallen leaves, gently placed his arm around the dying 
man, supporting his head on his own breast. With tears running 
down his honest, brown cheeks he brokenly replied: 

“No, my Massta. Yo’es ben too good ter yo’es people, fo’ de good 
Lawd ter cast yo’ soul in de evahlastin’ fire.” 

“That, Schafer, was my duty to man.” “I know I have omitted 
my duty to God.” Mr. Wilton paused. Nearly exhausted, he faintly 
whispered: 

“Schafer, before this soul of mine goes into the world of spirits, 
can’t you ? ” “ Ah, Schafer! ’ ’ cried the dear old man, ‘ ‘ cant you pray 
God to save your poor old Massta’s soul ? ’ ’ 

The stout heart of Schafer was overcome with emotion. He could 
not pray, nor could he refrain from disclosing his grief any longer. 
He wept as with a broken heart. 

“Oh, my own good Massta! Don’t die! D'on’t lem that bad Cap’n 
fotch all yo’es people ah way!” “Oh! Massta Randolph, what I 
gwine do now?” 

Schafer’s head went down. He had a feeling of utter desolation. 

The kind, faithful slave glanced into that pale, quiet face and saw 
he had lost the best friend he ever had on earth. He looked toward 
Heaven and then, with a loud voice, cried: 

‘ ‘ 0 Lawd, have mussy on my good old Massta’s soul! ’ ’ 

It was twilight in that lonely, silent wood. 

Schafer laid his unfortunate Master back on the ground and care¬ 
fully covered him with his coat. Then quickly he mounted Nero and 
dashed off for Wilton Hall, which was three miles from where Mr. 
Wilton’s body laid. 

When Schafer reached his home and entered the gate, he saw Cap¬ 
tain Lancaster talking with Miss Patty; she apparently enjoying 
what he had to say. Generally speaking, the Captain was considered 
delightful company. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


65 


Schafer did not go up to Miss Patty and the Captain, but rode 
around to the side porch. The Captain immediately turned to inter¬ 
cept him, leaving Miss Patty, who thought the Captain meant to give 
some order regarding his horse. Instead, with an oath and shaking 
his riding whip in Schafer’s face, the Captain fiercely muttered: 

“You black scoundrel! How dare you! You know to whom you 
belong now, sir.” 

Schafer, who would have defended with his life the honor of his 
Master’s family, made a polite bow to the Captain, and with emo¬ 
tion exclaimed: 

“I—I beg pard’n, sah. I’se jest gwine ter tell my Missus my old 
Massta is now lay ’n on de cold ground in yonder wood—dead. ’ ’ 

Schafer bowed his head in grief. 

Miss Patty hastened to him. “What did you say, Schafer?” she 
cried, her face white and scared. 

Before Schafer could reply, the Captain had mounted his horse and 
left the plantation. 

Schafer’s version of his Master’s death as he gave it to Mr. John 
Wilton, from the time he left the tavern with his Master and Captain 
Lancaster, to his Master’s last breath, did not amount to anything 
at the inquest, he being a negro slave. The jury decided death was 
caused by 4 ‘ heart failure. ’ ’ 

The kind, generous, but unfortunate man, who had been a dis¬ 
penser of unrestrained, royal hospitality, was not buried in the family 
burying ground on the plantation, but was carried to Richmond City 
and there laid to rest in the graveyard of St. John’s Church. 

As soon as Mrs. Wilton and Miss Patty’s nervous condition would 
permit, John returned to his native county, leaving them in Rich¬ 
mond, which was to be their future home. 

Considering their maids were their own personal property, the 
ladies were allowed to take them to Richmond. Old Mammy Lempy, 
who also belonged to Mrs. Wilton said, with gladness in her heart: 

‘ ‘ Thank de Lawd I ’longs ter my Missus! ’ ’ 

Among other personal property of Mr. John Wilton were many 
valuable books in his father’s library. His body servant, Tom, also 
belonged to him. Tom was thankful he was not to fall into the hands 
of Captain Lancaster. 

It has been told by good authority: 


66 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


A few days after the family left their grand old home, Captain 
Lancaster was having a sale of the premises. He saw a child of one 
of the house servants drinking milk from a silver bowl. He seized 
the bowl and dashed the contents over the child. 

Then fearing he would lose one article of value, he bribed the child 
to find another silver bowl. 


CHAPTER XV. 


John’s Resolution. 

T HREE months passed since the preparation for Marie’s wed¬ 
ding suddenly ceased. Also, by command of Judge Howell, 
the visits of Mr. John Wilton to Cedar Hill were discontinued. 
Little did it seem to matter to Marie, that April had come, with the 
sweet flowers of spring. She passed her days sitting alone, pale and 
listless,gazing into the glowing fire. Very pale indeed was that calm, 
sweet face. The blue veins of her fair hands, that rested in her lap 
were distinctly visible in the soft gloaming. Smiles no longer crept 
about her expressive mouth—indicative of an exalted mind. Even 
her eyes had a sad, mournful look. 

The bright April month was drawing to a close. Marie as usual, 
sat alone, not a sound in her quiet room, save the crackling of the 
hickory logs, and at intervals a deep, heavy sigh. 

‘ ‘ Thought flies swifter than light. ’ ’ 

Marie’s thoughts were of a small town a few more than one score 
of miles from Cedar Hill; where there was a large frame dwelling 
with store. At the left of the entrance to the store, was an extended 
window, decorated with saddles, harness, whips, spurs and stirrups. 
In fact, everything necessary for the equipment of a horse. 

On entering this store one was forcibly impressed with the odor of 
leather, and the perfect cleanliness of the establishment. Not a par¬ 
ticle of dust rested on the floor nor counter, neither on the harness 
that embellished the walls. 

In a smaller room or shop at the rear of the store were three busy 
men. The stout elderly man with a good-natured face was Mr. Greorge 
Anderson, the owner and proprietor of the establishment. The other 
man who was intently arranging his wax-end with his bald head more 
in view than his face, was Mr. Anderson’s foreman. The tall, hand¬ 
some young man with dark hair, broad intellectual forehead, aproned 
from neck to knee, sitting on a stitch-horse, sewing straps, was Mr. 
John Wilton. 

He assumed no borrowed appearance. And he sought no mask to 
cover him; for he acted no studied part, but he was indeed what he 

67 


68 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


appeared to be—full of truth and candor. In all his life he had 
known no path but the fair and direct one; and would rather fail of 
success than attain it by any reproachful means. 

When asked, * ‘ What are you doing here ?’ ’ 

He cheerfully replied: “Working for my daily bread.” 

“How dreadful!” exclaimed Society, “that the great downfall of 
Mr. Randolph Wilton’s family was caused by a debt of honor.” 

No one could have been more grieved or so utterly astonished as 
Senator Loft was, when he returned from the North and learned the 
sad state of his friend’s affairs. He immediately sought John whom 
he advised and sincerely tried to influence by argument, to turn his 
attention to law. 

“You know, Senator,” said John, “I never was particularly fond 
of reading law.” 

“Then try some other profession,” advised the Senator. “There 
are other professions you are fully qualified to embrace. Come, 
John!” continued the Senator, “you do not know how it grieves me 
to see you conceal your fine talents in a work-shop.” 

“Ah, Senator!” sadly responded John, “I appreciate your kind¬ 
ness; yes, more than I can express. Perhaps, if you had been home 
when this awful thing occurred, I might have decided differently. 
Still, I assure you, I have not regretted for one moment the step I have 
taken. Moreover,” added John, “you forget, I cannot support the 
old style of living, while making a business in any profession.” 

‘ ‘ I would like to know why! ’ ’ exclaimed the Senator. 

A faint flush tinged the broad, white brow of John as he replied: 

“Because the means I have would not be adequate.” 

11 Plague the means! I ’ll warrant I have more than enough for you, 
and myself, too. So come now, old fellow, say you will never don that 
apron again.” 

John looked down at his apron; he sighed but made no reply. 

The Senator tried another plan. 

“John!” he said, “what would your lady friends say, to see you in 
such a fix as that ? ’ ’ 

“There! there!” hastily exclaimed John, “you speak of the ladies, 
that recalls one of the most severe, and the least looked for of all 
hurts. ’ ’ 

11 How so ? ” asked the Senator, in surprise. 

“You remember, Senator,” said John, “how General Harvie’s wife 
has said she could not have a successful party or entertainment with- 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


69 


out I assisted her in entertaining. She even would consult my con¬ 
venience before she appointed the day for her literary socials, wish¬ 
ing her friends of talent to meet me there. Well,” proceeded John, 
“the week after I began work for Mr. Anderson, I rode down to the 
Courtyard. On the opposite side of the green I saw Miss Nannie 
Harvie and her mother. Of course, I was going to speak to the ladies 
as I had always done. I turned my horse and had nearly reached 
their carriage, when—great heavens!” continued John, “such frigid 
glances as I received. Mrs. Harvie bade her coachman: ‘For pity’s 
sake drive on.’ ” 

“Mrs. Harvie! Can it be possible, John?” said the Senator, who 
looked distressed and perplexed. 

“By George, Senator!” John spoke in his straightforward manner, 
“it was so unexpected, I halted in confusion for some moments 
before I realized what was meant. ’ ’ 

“My! my! I certainly am surprised,” said the Senator. 

“I tell you what,” returned John, “I am sadly disappointed, I 
thought the General’s wife had a mind superior to those airy regions 
of pride and folly.” 

Instantly John’s handsome eyes brightened with an assured smile. 

“However,” he said, “I can overlook that, and all other slights, 
when I know I have one true lady friend, whose noble mind is gov¬ 
erned by pure, high principles; the same in prosperity and adversity. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Do you ever hear from her ? ’ ’ ventured the Senator, after a short 
pause. 

“Only indirectly,” was the sad reply. 

The Senator was truly solicitous for John’s happiness. He said: 

“John, I wish to goodness you would listen to reason. Upon my 
word! You must give up this work! My very soul spurns the idea! 
Come now, go home with me! I cannot understand, John, how in the 
world you ever undertook such a thing! ’ ’ 

“Would it bore you to hear it all?” asked John. 

“Not at all—quite the contrary,” replied the Senator with interest. 

“Well,” began John, “when Mr. Anderson saw me, the first time 
after father’s death, he said: 

“What are you doing, Mr. Wilton?” 

I replied, “Nothing, just now, sir.” 

“What do you think of doing?” he inquired. 

“I told him I had not given much thought to anything.” 


70 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“Well, Mr. Wilton/’ said the good old soul, “I have been thinking 
for you. When you were a small boy you took more than usual in¬ 
terest in my business. I reckon you remember how you used to tarry 
when you came to see about the work for your father! ’’ 

“I replied, Wes, sir, I remember.’ ” 

'Well, now, Mr. Wilton,’ he said, 'the long and short of it is just 
this: I thought maybe you would like to learn the business. ’ 

“What!” I indignantly exclaimed, “I, a man twenty-four years of 
age, serve an apprenticeship to a trade?” 

'Oh, no, sir—not that,’ mildly replied the old gentleman, shaking 
his head. 

Mr. Anderson hestitated a little, then said: 

'Mr. Wilton, your father was my patron and benefactor, and I 
would indeed be ungrateful did I not appreciate his kindness to my¬ 
self. And considering I have known you all your life, I venture this 
proposition—there is no pressing necessity that you should decide 
until you duly consider it.’ 

'Now, sir, if you don’t mind,’ he said, 'I will give you work you 
can do in the beginning. The higher grade of work, I am confident, 
a man of your intelligence can quickly learn—say in about one year— 
I think in that time you may be able to demand journeyman’s full 
jyages. I am sure my foreman as well as myself will take special in¬ 
terest to advance you in the work. And my wife, ’ added the kind old 
gentleman, ' has a spare room, nicely fixed; if you wish it I know she 
will not fail in her effort to make you comfortable, and I think, also 
happy.’ 

“I tell you, old fellow!” John cheerfully added, “I did not want 
much time to consider the only proposition—mind you now, the only 
proposition I had received. And without further thought I thanked 
Mr. Anderson for his kindness and his generous offer. I told him 
then, if agreeable to Mrs. Anderson I would like to board with her, 
and I would begin the next week to work for him.” 

“What a pity!—a great pity, John, that—” 

“Hold on, Senator!” quickly interrupted John. “I would like to 
know who made that great Senatorial speech, a few weeks ago, in the 
interest of “Home Manufacture.” 

The Senator smiled faintly. 

'' John, ’ ’ he said, '' although I am an advocate for mechanical labor, 
and believe the manufacturing interest will in the end benefit the 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


71 


whole mass of society, I beg of you to quit this work. A man of 
your talent is capable of adorning the highest walk of life.” 

John had received parental as well as professional education. He 
instantly responded: 

“It is not alone the mental culture of men that make them great. 
I know, among the mechanics, many distinguished men have arisen to 
adorn every walk of life. ’ ? 

“Yes, that is true,” promptly admitted the Senator. 

An anxious look marked John’s features but he warmly said: 

“Old fellow, I shall look for you to visit me in my new home, which 
I assure you is exceedingly pleasant; not surrounded with luxuries, 
but with every comfort. You will find Mrs. Anderson a lady of gen¬ 
uine piety as well as an intelligent, earnest member of Dr. Morris’ 
church. Her thoughtfulness of my welfare is motherly. They^ do not 
own their servants, but hire them. ’ ’ 

“Why, there!” suddenly exclaimed the Senator, “That recalls 
Tom; what have you done with him?” 

“I have hired him to Dr. Hill, of Richmond city. Tom has an ex¬ 
cellent home,” added John. 

“Well, that is something good anyhow,” responded the Senator, 
preparing to leave. They both stood. The Senator laid one hand 
affectionately on John’s shoulder. 

“I see, sir,” he said, “you are not ready to give up the trade. But, 
remember, my dear boy, there is no man living to whom I would urge 
this matter as I do to you. John,” the Senator hesitated a moment. 
“Tell me, John, have you thought seriously how society will regard 
your resolutions?” 

“Yes, old fellow,” John cheerfully replied, “I have. And I will 
prove to society, that, 'It is the man who determines the dignity of 
the occupation, not the occupation which measures the dignity of the 
man.’ ” 

With a brief sigh, but with silent admiration for his friend, the sad 
Senator mounted his horse and left for the long homeward ride.. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


Lady Alice. 

A LOVELY day in June. Lady visitors were leaving Cedar Hill: 
the grating of the wheels on the one-mile drive-way, that led 
to the main road was still audible. 

Cousin Betty, Marie and Fannie had returned to the cool, pleasant 
parlor. 

Fannie threw her lithe form upon the sofa, and petulantly said: 
“Do pray, cousin Betty, tell me what Mrs. Brown meant, when 
she said, ‘Marie had the same sad expression, that our mother had.’ ” 
“Your mother was a beautiful woman, Fannie, not only her form, 
but her face too, was perfectly English; and Marie looks very much 
like her.” “Of course,” said cousin Betty, you were too young to 
remember much about your mother.” 

“Well, what I want to know is,” persisted Fannie, “what caused 
that sad expression.” 

“Perhaps it was no more than natural.” Marie kindly interposed. 
“And perhaps there was a cause,” Fannie knowingly responded. 
‘ ‘ Do you want to say, Marie, that your long, sad face is natural, when 
every-one knows there is a cause.” 

A deep flush crept up over Marie’s neck and mantled her sweet 
face. She made no reply. 

“Of course Fannie, dear,” said cousin Betty, there is generally a 
cause for a sad expression such as your mother had, and— 

“That is just what I think;” interrupted Fannie, “There was a 
cause, and I want to know what it was.” 

“One thing!” said cousin Betty, “Lady Mildred had a fine, sensa- 
tive nature and could never become reconciled to her sister’s death. 
Her grief for Lady Alice, and the worry of slaves, I am bound to 
think, hastened her death. 

“Marie,” said Fannie, “do you know how Lady Alice, or our aunt 
Alice, died?” 

“"Yes, I heard mother speak of it when I was very young.” 

72 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


73 


“Well !’ 7 exclaimed Fannie, nestling in the sofa pillow. “I suppose 
you all think because I have been away at school, I am not interested 
in the family affairs of long ago.” 

“Law me, honey!” said cousin Betty, “You are always so happy, 
I dislike to pester you with anything that is sad.” And cousin Betty 
took a dip from her tiny, silver snuff-box. 

“But child,” she said,“if you would like to know how your aunt 
Alice died, I will tell you, right now.” 

After taking her knitting from her pocket and smoothing out 
her black silk apron, cousin Betty said: 

“Fannie, you know of your grandfather, Sir Roger Berwick, of 
England?” 

“Yes, indeed,” answered Fannie, “I have often hear of him.” 

“Well,” said cousin Betty, “Sir Roger had heard very much of 
Judge Howell, his land and slaves. Indeed his cotton plantations in 
the South were regarded as something wonderful in England. And 
when he made a proposal for Lady Mildred’s hand in marriage, Sir 
Roger unhesitatingly consented.” 

A few months previous to Lady Mildred’s marriage, her younger 
sister, Lady Alice was betrothed to Malcolm Bailie, a young Presby¬ 
terian minister, a most excellent gentleman, a descendant of the il¬ 
lustrious reformer, John Knox.” 

“Although the Judge had been appraised of it,” said cousin Betty, 
yet the day before he and Lady Mildred sailed for America he very 
thoughtlessly remarked at the dinner table, “If Lady Alice would 
accompany Lady Mildred' and himself to America, he would get her 
a wealthy husband.” 

Lady Alice was the only one who made a reply and she with a 
toss of her head said: 1 ‘ Thank you, sir; I am not for sale! ’ ’ 

Her father made no comment whatever, but, very early the next 
morning, the family knew Sir Roger had been thinking about it, 
when he said to Lady Alice: 

‘ ‘ Get your trunks ready without delay, it is my wish that you ac¬ 
company your sister to America.” 

“Why, father!” Lady Alice cried, “And leave Malcolm here?” 

“Yes, child, said her father, you do not suppose you are to take 
a poor minister with you.” 


74 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“What will Malcolm think!” exclaimed Lady Alice. “Oh, father!” 
she pleaded, do not send me away! I am so happy here. Malcom is 
so good.” 

“Yes, he is good:” said Sir Roger, <‘He is good and poor.” 

Father! ’ ’ she cried, ‘ ‘ Malcolm! told yon the amount of his income 
before yon consented to our marriage! Oh, I know it will kill him 
to separate ns in such a cruel manner!” 

“Ah, no,” said her father, “It will not kill him or yon either, it 
is for your benefit, you will be a very rich lady with many slaves to 
serve you.” 

“I do not wish slaves!” returned Lady Alice, hotly. 

“Although Sir Roger loved Lady Alice, dearly,” said cousin Betty, 
“that, made him mad, he stamped his foot and pointed to the door.” 

‘ ‘ Please father! ’ 7 cried poor Lady Alice, while her small hands were 
clinging to his extended arm, * 1 please do not send me away! I would 
rather die than be sold like a slave! ’ ’ 

“Be silent, Miss, how dare you use such language to me! Go at 
once, and do as I command you!” cried her father as he angrily 
pushed her from him. 

“The dear girl hastened to Lady Mildred’s room and wTiile re¬ 
lating the cruel mandate uttered by her father, she fainted away.” 

“Lady Mildred called for assistance, but it was a long time before 
Lady Alice returned to consciousness.” 

“Lady Mildred knew her father meant to be obeyed, when he 
said Lady Alice was to go with her to America; and the only thing 
to do was to get her ready.” 

Cousin Betty paused with a deep sigh. 

‘ ‘ I have heard your mother, say; ’ ’ she continued, 11 that dear Lady 
Alice took no interest in anything, she moved around the room me¬ 
chanically, with a pale, sad face, the only word that passed her white 
lips was ‘ Malcolm! Malcolm! ’ ” 

“ Well,” said cousin Betty, “the hour came for them to drive to the 
boat. Malcolm had promised to be at the wharf to see Lady Mildred 
and her husband sail for America.” 

“Little did he think to find his lovely promised bride in such a 
hopeless plight.” 

“When he reached the wharf it was nearly time for the vessel to 
sail; but he hurried on-board. Lady Alice rushed to him and en¬ 
treated him to save her.” . 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


75 


Malcolm! ’ ’ she cried, I do not want to live, without you! ’ ’ 

“Malcolm turned to Sir Roger and demanded an explanation.” 

“Nothing more than this, Mr. Bailie;” Sir Roger slowly responded. 

My daughter, Lady Alice, is to accompany her sister, and her 
brother-in-law to America,” 

‘ ‘ Why, Sir Roger! ’ ’ indignantly cried Malcolm. ‘ ‘ She is my prom¬ 
ised wife, and she does not wish to go.” 

“It is my wish, Mr. Bailie,” haughtily replied Sir Roger. "And 
I do not purpose to have a scene here, we will give our parting word 
to the voyagers.” 

"The vessel was ready to move off,” said cousin Betty. "Lady 
Alice did not notice her father, but clung to Malcolm. When Judge 
Howell,—your father, Fannie,—saw the sailors were taking in the 
planks he gently took Lady Alice from Malcolm’s arms; and they 
saw she was unconscious.” 

*■ 1 Thus Malcolm w‘as forced to leave the boat, and the one he loved, 
above all the world. ’ ’ 

"When Lady Alice recovered consciousness;” proceeded cousin 
Betty, "the vessel was moving at a right good speed, and her first 
thought was to go on deck to see her lover who was standing in the 
wharf. The sun-light resting on his long wavy hair plainly distin¬ 
guishing him from all others. His eyes never for an instant leaving 
the moving vessel.” 

"Lady Alice was standing on a chair watching Malcolm.” With 
nimble foot she stepped to the rail of the boat, then with hands out¬ 
stretched and a loud cry of 'Malcolm!’ she leaped over-board.” 

"In a flash Malcolm’s long ministerial coat and hat were lying on 
the wharf and he exerting all his strength to swim to her in the agi¬ 
tated water. 

"Ah, me!” sighed cousin Betty. "Of course it was useless. No 
body could save her. ’ ’ 

"Was Malcolm drowned?” asked Fannie, who was deeply touched. 

"Yes, honey, he was drowned, his body was recovered and buried, 
but, the lovely Lady Alice lies at the bottom of} the sea.” 

"This, Fannie, this great sorrow,—I think,” said cousin Betty, "is 
what caused your dear mother’s sad expression.” 

The approach of a man is often known by his steps. 

At that moment there was a quick step on the veranda, then into 
the hall, and Judge Howell entered the parlor. He found Marie and 


76 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


Fannie in tears, and cousin Betty rubbing her spectacles. The Judge 
wishing them to think he had not observed their tears made no remark 
concerning them. Drawing a letter from his pocket he pleasantly 
remarked: 

“We shall have a visitor here next week. I would like each one of 
you to do your best and make his visit enjoyable.” 

“Who is coming, father?” asked Marie. 

“Sir Edgar de Lourna, a gentleman of ancient family and ex¬ 
tensive possessions in Louisiana,” answered the Judge. Ahd if you 
wish particularly to please me, Miss Marie,” the Judge added, “you 
will rouse yourself and be more entertaining.” “Of course, you will 
invite the Senator to call on Sir Edgar.” 

“Father,” said Marie, “the Senator left this morning for Wash¬ 
ington, and will not return for several months. ’ ’ 

The Judge was disappointed; he frowned, but, silently bowed to 
the ladies, then with the habitual w^ave of his hand, he left the room. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


A Distinguished Visitor. 

S IR EDGAR DE LOURNA’S grandfather was a descendant of 
French royalty. He bought an immense tract of land in Louis¬ 
iana and a great number of negro slaves to work a cotton plan¬ 
tation. He built a palatial home, then brought his family from 
France and settled in that Louisiana home. 

The large plantation that adjoined this old estate belonged to 
Judge Howell. Indeed, there was but a small portion of that large 
county that did not belong to Judge Howell, and the Count’s last 
descendant, Sir Edgar de Lourna, of England. 

What a busy week followed the quiet announcement of the in¬ 
tended visit of the distinguished visitor. Cousin Betty had every¬ 
body on the land with some mission to complete. The north cham¬ 
ber was thoroughly renovated. The silverware, the brass' and all the 
mahogany furniture was polished to a high degree. She thought the 
Howell’s display of hospitality, on this occasion, should be more than 
usual. 

No one on the plantation felt their importance more than Aunt 
Mariah. She would strut to the kitchen door, which was forty feet 
from the house. Her loud, shrill voice could he heard: 

‘‘Whah Lucy?” 

“H’ar me, mammy!” Lucy replied. 

“Make ’ast, gal!” called Mariah, “an’ fetch a pi’cher ob watah 
from de spring; run every step ob de way, yo’ h’are.” “Min’ yo’, 
don’ spill de watah.” 

Lucy replied: “I ain’t gwine ter spill et, mammy.” Yet she re¬ 
turned dripping like a sea nymph, having in her haste spilled more 
than half the water over herself. 

Again, Mariah was heard saying: 

“Dah, now Lucy! Didn’t I tol’ yo’ fut to ax Mandy fut to sen’ 
me dat baskit ob aigs?” 

“Yo’ do’wan’ no aigs now, mammy,” returned Lucy. 

77 


78 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


‘ 1 Whut fur I don’t?” yelled Mariah. “Yo’ make ’ast, gal, an’ git 
me dem aigs. ” 

But when the day dawned that brought the expected visitor to 
Cedar Hill, everything was in perfect harmony and plenty of wel¬ 
come awaited him. 

When Sir Edgar ascended the high steps of the broad veranda, 
he was met by Judge Howell and presented to his daughters, who 
were standing to receive their guest. As Sir Edgar relinguished the 
hand of the tall, stately blonde, and turned to the black-eyed, petite 
brunette in soft white dress, his first and only thought was: 

‘ ‘ What a lovely creature! ’ ’ 

Indeed, Sir Edgar Was so greatly absorbed in this one thought, it 
never occurred to him the impression his personal appearance might 
make upon the ladies; and it would not have added to his small van¬ 
ity if he had seen and heard Fannie one hour later when she entered 
Marie’s chamber 

“Well, sister!” exclaimed Fannie, “I thought I would die.” 

“Why, Fannie!- What has happened?” eagerly inquired Marie. 

Fannie hopelessly sank into a large rocking chair. “Happened!” 
she cried. “My laws, Marie! Sir Edgar de Lourna is the homeliest 
little man that ever did happen.” 

Marie smiled and tenderly said: 

“Is that the cause of your trouble, Fannie?” 

“Oh, pshaw, Marie!” returned Fannie . “I have no trouble. I am 
only disappointed.” “When father told us Sir Edgar de Lourna 
was coming to visit us, I fully expected to see a tall, handsome young 
man; and here he is, short and homely.” 

* 1 What reason had you to think he was tall and handsome ? ’ ’ asked 
Marie. 

“I don’t know,” Fannie answered pettishly. “I reckon it was 
because I liked the sound of his name.” “Oh, dear!” she sighed. 
“I anticipated so much pleasure in taking him around with the 
girls.” 

“Surely, Fannie,” said Marie, “if Sir Edgar is not your ideal 
you can take him in company.” 

“Indeed I will not take him. You may take him yourself and see 
that he is entertained. I fear I can hardly be civil to the man. ’ ’ 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


79 


"Why, Fannie! Yon surprise me.” "I admit Sir Edgar can 
advance but slight pretentions to beauty, but his perfect manners 
compensate for that deficiency.” 

"Perfect manners!” answered Fannie contemptuously. "I did 
not notice his manners. All I could think of was: 

‘ ‘ My laws! What a homely little man. ’ ’ 

"Oh, Fannie! I never heard you speak so mean of anyone before.” 

"I cannot help it, Marie,” said Fannie, almost ready to cry. "I 
was so disappointed in his appearance I could not even listen to his 
conversation. ’ ’ 

"It is perfectly absurd, little sister!” gently remonstrated Marie. 
"If you had paid attention to Sir Edgar’s conversation you would 
have found neither his features nor his height offensive to your 
sight. His descriptions were beautiful as well as striking.” 

"Oh, dear!” wearily sighed Fannie. "It makes my head ache!” 
And she laid her head back in the chair. 

Presently she sat up and showed a little interest. 

"Marie!” she said, "what was it Sir Edgar said about father’s 
overseer in Louisiana?” 

"He said,” replied Marie, "Timothy Collins had been a very 
severe and cruel overseer over father’s slaves on the Louisiana plan¬ 
tation. And about a month ago he suddenly disappeared. Nobody 
down there can find him or any trace of him. ’ ’ 

"What does father intend to do about it?” asked Fannie. 

"I hardly know, Fannie, but I heard father tell Sir Edgar he 
wanted to make a complete change in the management of that Louis¬ 
iana plantation.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


Fannie's Sentiment Changes. 

D URING the first fortnight of Sir Edgar's visit, the Judge dis¬ 
covered Sir Edgar had many business qualifications, and these 
added to his social qualities, made him to the Judge a most 
desirable visitor. 

Even Tecumseh announced the meals with delight; so eager was he 
to hear Sir Edgar's table-talk, while he glided about in the rejected 
pumps and silk stockings of that gentleman. And happy with the 
thought that no one but himself knew how his great black toes pro¬ 
truded through the broken meshes of the much too short stockings. 

Tecumseh was intensely envied by the less favored servants, espe¬ 
cially when he would appear in fine neckwear. Cousin Betty was ob¬ 
servant in such matters; one day she declared: 

“Tecumseh's cravat is as well tied as when Sir Edgar wore it.” 

Sir Edgar was a man of great wealth, of elegant tastes, of refined 
and luxurious habits of life. He had often thought of marrying but 
of all the lovely women with whom he had associated, he had never 
been convinced he had found one who truly and sincerely loved him, 
as he wanted to be loved. 

Fannie had ample opportunity to learn much of a character with 
which she was associated every day for weeks. If she went to walk 
or ride, Sir Edgar was sure to say: 

■ “Permit me to go with you?” Unaware of the longing tender¬ 
ness in his voice. 

Fannie had grown strangely womanly of late. She knew (as only a 
woman can know) that Sir Edgar was always conscious of her pres¬ 
ence; always aware when her glance fell upon him, no matter who 
was in their company he never lost a word or a suggestion of hers. 

Frequently Marie would join them in their rambles, but they could 
never persuade her to accompany them when they were to have a row 
or a sail on the Potomac river. 

It was while sailing on that beautiful river with Sir Edgar, that 
Fannie first felt there was a supplication in his tone; and with the 

80 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


81 


profound respect she now had for his perfect manners, she wondered 
how she could ever have thought Sir Edgar a homely man. 

To Fannie, the sky never looked so blue, nor the grass so green; 
never was the air so sweetly laden as it dispensed the perfume of the 
majestic rose in the garden. Even the modest violet that bloomed on 
the grass-covered banks of the river, was gathered with a new fond¬ 
ness. 

Ah, Fannie had just awakened to the full knowledge of the recesses 
of her own heart. 

There is much that is sweet and tender in the blind love of a young 
girl. In the dreamy idealization of early love, and the new emotions 
that banish childhood, before the child knows what it is to be a 
woman. 

The weeks grew to months before Sir Edgar’s visit terminated at 
Cedar Hill; then he was summoned by urgent business to his estate 
in Louisiana. 

When he spoke to Fannie of his departure, her quivering lip and 
tearful eye told him more than many words could have done. 

Sir Edgar, for the first time, felt for a certainty of being loved as 
he desired. He drew her into his arms and held her close to his beat¬ 
ing heart. 

“Ah, my darling!” he softly murmured. “I know you truly love 
me! ’ ’ 

Before Sir Edgar left the home of his hospitable entertainer, it was 
understood that he would return in November, the time appointed for 
the wedding, and take his bride to her new home in Louisiana. 

The Judge made no objection. 

But there was one who did object, and that was Marie. She was 
deeply grieved and repeatedly remonstrated on the impropriety of 
Fannie uniting her destiny with that of a man who declared: 11 There 
is no G-od!” 

“My dear Fannie, stop and consider,” urged Marie. “Oh! I 
would have you think what an unhappy life will certainly be yours. 
You will never attend a place of divine service. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ How do you know that, Marie ? ’ ’ asked Fannie. 

“Isn’t it plain enough?” returned Marie. “Ever since Sir Edgar 
has been in our home, he has positively refused to go to church, not 
even with you, would he go. Ah, my dear sister!” continued Marie, 
“the fresh, unstained fountain in that heart of yours is stirred with 
wild ambition; but you will never find true happiness in the pleas- 


82 Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

ures, the riches and the honors of this world.” Marie paused, then 
in a solemn manner she gently proceeded: “Indeed, Fannie, I fear 
for you. I know the foundation of all true happiness is a belief of the 
existence and perfections of God. As a Being on whom the whole 
creation is entirely and continually dependent. The God who is our 
constant Benefactor. Our Father in heaven.” 

Although Fannie was not as strong in those principles as Marie, 
yet she bravely replied: 

“Surely, Marie, you are hunting trouble. I am confident with my 
religious influence Sir Edgar will soon be brought to see his error.” 

Marie shook her head incredulously. 

While in Louisiana Sir Edgar wrote constantly to Fannie. He 
sometimes reproached her for not allowing her feelings to speak 
plainer in their correspondence, and wrote: 

“I would know every passing thought.” 


c 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The Agreement. 

T HREE months passed and Sir Edgar returned to Cedar Hill. 
The same busy times were at the home as were there two years 
before, when preparing for Marie’s wedding. 

Some of the same persons coming and going; boxes and parcels 
arriving daily. There was continual gossiping among the slaves and 
neighbors, of the great wedding preparation. 

There came from New York many costly gowns for the lovely bride. 
Judge Howell had been exceedingly liberal in the matter of his 
daughter Fannie’s trousseau. 

As Marie’s tall, stately figure was quietly moving among the serv¬ 
ants, giving them instructions in the domestic affairs, her sad, sad 
blue eyes would fill with tears in spite of herself. She not only dis¬ 
approved of Fannie’s choice, but seeing and assisting in the wedding 
preparations brought to her pure mind the sad, sad thought: 

“It might have been.” 

One morning soon after Sir Edgar’s return to Cedar Hill, Senator 
Toft was announced. He having recently returned from Washington 
where he had performed his usual duties. 

The Judge, who had been awaiting the coming of the Senator, re¬ 
quested him and Sir Edgar to go with him to his private room where 
he wished to talk of an agreement concerning his Louisiana plantation. 
The Judge seated at his desk which was strewn with papers, re¬ 
marked to the Senator: 

“They have not yet found Timothy Collins.” 

“Is that so!” exclaimed the Senator, “Did they search with 
hounds ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, sir,” replied the Judge. “When Sir Edgar went back to 
Louisiana he had a thorough search made of the county with hounds, 
and they could not track him.” 

“That is singular!” responded the Senator. How do you account 
for that, Sir Edgar?” 


83 


84 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“To me, it is impossible to understand, sir/’ replied Sir Edgar. 
“I sent out some of the quickest hounds that ever lived, and with 
the keenest scent, still they could not track him.” 

“What did the negroes say of Collins’ mysterious disappearance?” 
was the next question the Senator asked. 

“Senator,” said Sir Edgar, “I could get nothing satisfactory from 
one of them. Indeed they seem to know nothing at all about his 
departure. 

“Did you observe anything noteworthy about those negroes?” in¬ 
quired the Senator. 

“Not one thing,” answered Sir Edgar. “I confess I was surprised 
to see them so very anxious to find him.” 

“Exactly,” nodded the Senator emphatically. “The only conclu¬ 
sion to come to, Sir Edgar is, those negroes on that plantation know 
more about Collins than they are willing to admit.” 

“That may be true,” said the Judge thoughtfully. I have recently 
learned he had no mercy upon my slaves. However, I am glad that 
is all over now, I am satisfied they will do much better under Sir 
Edgar’s management.” 

“You mean to say, Sir Edgar has agreed to your proposition?” 
asked the Senator. 

“Yes, sir.” The Judge answered. 

“Does Sir Edgar understand the agreement?” asked the Senator. 

‘ ‘ Oh, yes, I have spoken to him about it, but of course he will read 
the agreement before he signs it.” 

“Not a doubt of that,” said the Senator heartily. 

The Judge produced a folded document and said, “This is the 
agreement. ’ ’ 

“Why, Judge!” exclaimed the Senator, “I thought—” 

“Yes, I know Senator,” interrupted the Judge, “I told you I 
wanted you to write it for me, but I have it now just as I want it. 
You will please sign as witness when Sir Edgar is ready.” 

‘ ‘ Certainly sir, at your pleasure. ’ ’ was the polite reply. 

Sir Edgar read the agreement and he signed it. Senator Loft 
signed as witness. 

In the afternoon of the same day Sir Edgar read the legal agree¬ 
ment, which was duly signed and sealed, to Fannie. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


85 


The purport of which she gave to Marie, was: 

Judge Howell gave to Sir Edgar the Louisiana cotton plantation 
with the use of one hundred slaves, for five years from the day of 
Fannie’s marriage to Sir Edgar. 

The condition of the agreement was the agreed management. And 
at the expiration of the five years, the slaves and said plantation shall 
and will be returned to Judge Howell. 


CHAPTER XX. 


Fannie’s Wedding. 

A DARK, cloudy, dismal day, accompanied with a drizzling rain, 
was the day that dawned for Fannie’s wedding. 

Notwithstanding the dark day and its sad omen, Fannie 
Howell was beautiful in her soft white-silk gown and long-flowing 
veil. But her usually rosie cheeks were as white as the satin slip¬ 
pers that encased her tiny feet, H|er light firm step as she followed 
the bridesmaids down the broad stairway into the well-filled parlor 
betrayed not her intense emotion of pleasure and of sadness. 

Fannie realized she was about to enter upon an untried sphere of 
action, to begin a new life. 

When Dr. Morris, of Fredericksburg, who performed the cere- 
many, turned to Sir Edgar and asked the all important questions 
that made them man and wife, Sir Edgar promptly and firmly an¬ 
swered : 

“I will.” 

Fannie’s answer was equally as firm, only it was softly uttered. 
They had no yoke put upon their necks, or chains on their arms, 
as the ancients did to bride and groom, to show that they were to 
be one, closely united and pulling together in all concerns of life. 
Sir Edgar put a heavily chased gold ring on Fannie’s finger. 

After the ceremony, which was soon over, followed the congratu¬ 
lations and the grand wedding dinner. 

Before Fannie changed her bridal attire for her traveling dress, 
she retired to her chamber with Cousin Betty, and there she re¬ 
ceived every slave on the plantation, giving old and young a kind 
word and a souvenir. Many genuine tears were shed, particularly 
by the old slaves, when they bade their dear young Missus “good- 

by.” 

In the meantime, Tessa, who was Mariali’s daughter, and Fan¬ 
nie’s maid and property, had been sent to the boat with Isaac to at¬ 
tend to the trunks and boxes that belonged tu the bridal party. 

86 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


87 


Finally, to relatives and friends, the last “good-by” was said. 
Then, her hand within Sir Edgar’s arm, Lady de Lourna was led 
out to the carriage amid shouts of blessings and long life from many 
true hearts. 

Of the two slippers that were thrown after the (bride, one was 
brought home by Sam, much to the discomfort of Cousin Betty, w'ho 
declared: 

“It is a fearful bad sign to bring one slipper back to the house!” 

The four horses, with the family carriage, were dashing along the 
muddy road to the boat landing. The carriage rolled on. Fannie 
sat silent, absorbed in thought. Sir Edgar drawing her closer to 
him, took her unresisting hand in his and fondly said: 

‘ ‘ What are the thoughts of my little darling ? ’ ’ 

Fannie raised her large black eyes, so full of tender love, to his and 
replied: 

‘ ‘ I was thinking of our vows today. ’ ’ 

“What about the vows?” “Do you regret so soon, my little 
wife ? ’ ’ 

“Oh no, not that, Sir Edgar.” 

“What then, sweetheart?” he asked. 

Fannie was sileht, and smiled. 

“Tell me, dearest!” he kindly urged. 

“Why, Sir Edgar,” said Fannie, “our vows were before God and 
according to God’s Holy ordinance. I was wondering how you un¬ 
derstood the ceremony when you do not believe there is a God.” 

Sir Edgar laughed. 

‘ ‘ My dear little wife, ’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘ I made my vows conscientiously, 
and I am answerable to my conscience.” “Is that all that has caused 
you to be so quiet, Lady de Lourna,?” Sir Edgar tenderly inquired. 

“Yes, that is all,” Fannie replied. But she bent her head and 
shyly added: “You mean, that to you, your vows are just as bind¬ 
ing, don’t you, Sir Edgar?” 

“Yes, my darling.” He ardently responded: “Until death us 
do part.” 

“Sir Edgar,” said Fannie, “I think it is very merciful in God to 
admonish us by our conscience when we do wrong.” 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


1 ‘ For my sake, sweetheart! ” he uttered, in a voice of deep emotion. 
“ Do not express such sentiments. And if you value our great hap¬ 
piness, wait until I mention the subject to you.” 

Fannie could make no reply; her mouth was sealed with a long 
kiss from her truly devoted husband. 

Isaac, indifferent to the stevedore’s clatter, stood at the side of the 
boat trying to arouse jealousy in Tessa with an account of his future 
prospects. 

“How yo’ know Massta gwine lem yo’ git married to big Sally’s 
Jinny?” asked Tessa. 

“ ’Caze I don ax’d him,” answered Isaac, “an’ Massta don tol’ me 
I kin build me a cabin des winter, an’ Miss Betty es gwine to give 
me ah pig, an’ Miss Marie es gwine to give Jinny ah rooster an’ two 
hens.” “Tessa,” he added in a low, tender voice, “If yo’ was 
gwine to stay home I’d sot up to yo’.” 

“Dont know so much ’bout thut!” Tessa exclaimed, tossing her 
head and flirting her skirts as she walked away. 

Only one more trunk to be put on the boat when Sir Edgar and 
Fannie reached the boat landing. The hurried “good-by’s” were 
said. 

Uncle Peter, Sam and Isaac watched the boat out of sight, then 
sorrowfully turned their horses and drove homeward. 

Judge Howell, who was elated with gratified pride; the dignified 
Senator Loft and Miss Marie were standing on the veranda watching 
the last carriage wheels roll down the driveway. Marie, white as 
the dress she wore, was standing by the side of the Senator. She just 
naturally rested her hand within his arm. 

Oh, how gladly would the Senator have placed his arm around the 
dear trembling form and assured her of his life-long devotion. Was 
she not the only woman he had ever loved ? But oh, how hopelessly! 

The Senator stood in silence while all the strength of his great 
passion was written upon his grand, noble face and gleamed from his 
truthful eyes. He dares not speak lest his transitory happiness 
vanish. 

Alas! the Senator realized his pleasure was at the expense of 
Marie’s happiness, he earnestly remarked. 

‘ * I am so sorry to see you grieve, Miss Marie. ’ ’ 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 89 

That recalled Marie to her surroundings and she quickly responded: 

* * Oh, pardon me, Senator! Come in the parlor. I know you must 
feel chilly out here. You are not looking well. ” 

.“No, I thank you, Miss Marie,” said the Senator, “I have sent 
Rufus for my horse. ’ ’ 

“Oh, no, don’t go!” urged Marie. “Come in and I’ll ring for 
tea.” 

“Thank you kindly, I cannot stay this time,” replied the Sena¬ 
tor, with something like a sigh. 

The Judge, who had been watching the proceedings with silent sat¬ 
isfaction, suddenly cried: 

“Ah, fudge, Senator! Come in to tea.” 

“Really Judge,” returned the Senator, “have some writing I must 
do this evening. ’ ’ 

“All right, Rufus,” he said to his valet, who at that instant brought 
his horse to the steps of the veranda. 

To bid his friends “good-by” and mount his horse was the delay 
of a moment. The much esteemed Senator went galloping toward 
his quiet, lonely home, with his heart, yearning for the return of his 
affection with all the hungry intensity of his noble nature. 

That night the Judge walked his chamber floor in profound thought. 
When he began to undress for bed, impatiently removing his collar 
and silk stock, he mused: 

‘ ‘ I wonder if the Senator thinks. I am such a fool as not to under¬ 
stand him. I suppose he thinks I do not know why he could not stay 
here this evening. ” “ Pshaw! He was afraid to trust himself. ’ ’ 

The Judges coat was thrown down on a chair. 

‘ ‘ Gracious heavens! ” he mused, 11 it provokes me Marie is so dull. 
She will not understand the man. Will persist in entertaining him as 
a much prized brother.’” 

The Judge’s vest followed his coat. 

“By George!’” he murmured. “I shall never say one word to 
either on the subject. Nevertheless, I am bound to be a silent work¬ 
er.” 

At that conclusion the proud, selfish man was ready to ascend the 
the three steps to his bed and, we hope, soon sleep behind the snow- 
white valance. 


90 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


While Eliza brushed Marie’s long golden hair and arranged it for 
the night, Marie read aloud a chapter in the Bible, which she invari¬ 
ably did. After the duties of that complaisant servant were per¬ 
formed, she was kindly dismissed. 

Then Marie knelt in fervent prayer, not forgetting the dear sister 
who had left home that day to begin a new life, a new home with a 
husband devoted to the acquisition of property and temporal enjoy¬ 
ment, without the love and fear of God. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


General Lafayette. 


NE bright afternoon in the autumn of 1824, Marie on horse¬ 



back, was returning from a visit to Miss Carter, a neighbor. 


On the road she met uncle Luke, one of her brother William’s 


slaves. 


Always glad to see anyone, white or black from Aspen Grove, she 
reined in her horse, and in her kind, sweet voice, said: 

“How are you, uncle Luke?” 

“Ise toler’ble, thank de Lawd, Missus.” 

‘ ‘ How is sister Kitty, uncle Luke ? ’ ’ she asked. 

“She am mighty poo’ly ter day, Missus, I thanky,” Luke replied. 

“Of what does she complain?” asked Marie. 

“She thinks tis rheumatiz; de Doctor says ’taint so,” said Luke, 
“she cotch’d a vi’lent cole, an’ ole aunt Lilly wha most in gin’ral 
stays wif her when she sick, was ’bliged to lef her ter day, caze big 
Joe’s wife as is be’n gruntin’ nigh pon a week, was tooken mighty 
sudden dis mawnin.” 

“Who is with sister Kitty now?” Marie asked. 

“La, Missus!” said Luke, “Widow Hughes don be’n thar evah 
since de baby was bawli; mo den two months ahgo. ’ ’ 

“Cousin Betty told me the baby was a pretty little boy, does he 
resemble my namesake, the little girl?” 

“No, ’deed Missus,” Luke replied, “thar nevah was one like dat 
xdiild; her skin am de color of milk, wif dem big blue eyes, an’ dem 
long curls dat shine like gold. Why, Missus! dat child am a angel 
sholy. I knows, sum day she gwine do sump’in’ fo’ de good Lawd’s 
people. ’ ’ 

“What makes you think so, uncle Luke?” asked Marie. 

“Caze Missus, I sholy dident dream dat dream an’ seed dem vishens 
de night she whar baun, fo’ nuthin’.” 

“Well, uncle Luke,” said Marie, “give my love to sister Kitty, 
and tell her if she is well enough for brother to leave her, send Marie 
to church Sunday with him. ’ ’ 


91 


92 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“He ’ill come, Missus. Marse Willem es monstus glad to tote dat. 
child ebry Sunday.” 

4 4 Good-by, uncle Luke! ’ ’ said Marie, pulling up her reins to start. 

44 Good-by, Missus! ” 44 May God bless you, Missus! ’ ’ 

4 4 Thank you, uncle Luke! ’ ’ replied Marie, as she rode on. 

Marie and Fannie had never disobeyed their father in regard to 
visiting their brother at Aspen Grove, though it had been nearly 
four years since he married Miss Kitty Hughes, the carpenter’s 
daughter. Nevertheless, they frequently saw their brother and his 
family at church, sometimes, by appointment. It was a mystery to 
the Judge why his daughters were always late getting home, when he 
did not attend church with them. 

Many little articles of fine needle-work, mad© by Marie and Hester 
Morgan, were taken to Aspen Grove by cousin Betty, she declared: 

44 It is my duty to go to William’s, especially if he has sickness in 
the house, or at the ‘quarter.’ I am bound to go!” added cousin 
Betty, with a slow determined shake of her head. Still she was suffi¬ 
ciently prudent never to refer to those visits in the presence of Judge 
Howell. 

As Marie cantered along towards home, she saw the commanding 
figure of Senator Loft, riding down his lane. He gave his horse a 
turn and rode up to her side. With extended hand, he expressed his 
pleasure and surprise at meeting her. Indeed it was a wished for 
pleasure, and Marie would have forgiven the little deception of feign¬ 
ing surprise if she had known how patiently he had waited for her 
return, since she passed down the road, two hours before. 

44 Why Senator!” exclaimed Marie, evidently much pleased to see 
him. 44 1 did not know you had returned from New York.” 

44 I did not tarry long in New York, Miss Marie,” replied the Sen¬ 
ator, 4 4 but I left Washington yesterday morning in company with 
the Marquis.” 

44 Indeed!” exclaimed Marie, 44 Is General Lafayette here?” 

44 No, not here, but he is in Fredericksburg.” 

44 Well, I declare!” said Marie, 44 With whom is he stopping?” 

4 4 With your old friend, Mrs. Butler, and she has sent you an in¬ 
vitation to the reception she is to give tomorrow night in honor of 
the General.” 

4 4 Oh! I would love to meet him! ’ ’ exclaimed Marie, with more than 
her usual zeal. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


93 


And, I plead for the pleasure of accompanying you there. ’’ Said 
the Senator, bowing. 

“Thank you, sir, I shall be delighted to go.” “Of course,” said 
Marie, “it is necessarily a short notice, but I reckon the venerable 
General will not remain long in our State. ’ ’ 

“He leaves Fredericksburg the next morning.” Said the Senator. 
“But will not leave the State before he visits three of our former 
Presidents, now living as plain citizens. “Only,” added the Senator, 
“distinguished over their fellows by the right of franking their 
letters.” 

Marie’s horse was restless, he started to go home. Marie gathered 
her reins and said, as one friend would to another: ‘ ‘ Come, ride over 
home with me.” 

“I shall be delighted.” Replied the truthful Senator. 

Their horses walked and they talked. 

“How long did the General remain in New York?” asked Marie. 

“Four days.” Answered the Senator, “Then he and his son, Mr. 
George Washington Lafayette and his secretary, M. Levaseur, pro¬ 
ceeded to Boston in a splendid carriage provided by the corporation, 
and attended by four aldermen of the City.” 

“I am so glad you were appointed as one of the committee to re¬ 
ceive the General,” said Marie with sisterly pride. 

k ‘ Thank you, Miss Marie. It was not only a pleasure, but quite an 
honor.” “I knew,” continued the Senator, General Lafayette could 
hope to meet but few of his former associates in arms, while visiting 
America, almost fifty years from the period of his mighty career, 
and at the age of sixty-seven years. Yet, he was greatly surprised and 
delighted with his reception.” 

“Tell me about it. Was Governor Tompkins there?” 

“Yes, indeed,” replied the Senator, “the Governor received him 
at the entrance of New York bay, and conducted him to his own 
residence on Staten Island. The next day preparations were made 
for his reception in New York City. All business was suspended and 
the ringing of bells, the roar of cannon, the waving of the national 
flag, the parade military, proclaimed it a day of universal joy.” 

“Our nation is certainly giving its guest a grand reception!” re¬ 
marked Marie. 


94 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“It is all right/’ responded the Senator, “though the distinguished 
General is visibly affected. He stands bowing, smiling and waving his 
hat most of the time.” 

The Senator and Marie had entered through the large, iron gate¬ 
way and were cantering up the lovely drive in the shadows of the 
cedar trees. They rode silently, each absorbed in thought. Presently 
Marie suddenly exclaimed “Oh, Senator, will the Richmond Guards 
attend Mrs. Butler’s reception tomorrow night?” 

“Yes, in full uniform, Mrs. Butler sent them word not to disap¬ 
point her. 

Senator looked closely into Marie’s face, “I knew it would please 
you!” he said. 

“Of course it pleases me.” Marie replied. 

The gentle girl showed she was pleased, her blue eyes sparkled 
with pleasure. 

“Senator!” she shyly said, “Don’t you think John is handsome 
in his uniform ? ’ ’ 

“Well,” the Senator laughed, though his heart was breaking, 
“there is an old adage, 1 Handsome is as handsome does,’ and as 
John does handsome, of course John is handsome in his uniform.” 

‘ ‘ I suppose, sir, I shall have to accept that answer. But I shall ask 
you another question, Did you see John before you left Fredericks¬ 
burg this morning?” 

“Yes, I did,” replied the Senator, “and the poor fellow deplored 
the absence of a certain young lady from D!r. Morris’ church for 
three consecutive Sundays.” 

“He did?” Marie laughed and a flush of emotion came into her 
face. “He will approve,” she said, “when aunt Tabby explains to 
him the cause of that young lady’s absence.” 

“Aunt Tabby?” said the Senator, “you refer to Mrs. Morris, she 
is not a relative, is she?” 

“No indeed!” said Marie, “she is a friend which is more than a 
relative, one can have relatives that are not friends. Fannie and I 
have called her, aunt Tabby, since we were small children; then she 
gave us much of her time, at our home. ’ ’ 

They had reached the house, the Senator assisted Marie to dismount, 
and permitted Sam to put up his horse. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


95 


Judge Howell, alone, sitting in his arm chair on the veranda, hastily 
laid aside the book he was reading, and with evident pleasure ex¬ 
claimed : 

“Why Senator! I am< delighted to see you, sir! Take this chair!” 
with a bow and stately wave of his hand. 

After the Senator was seated the Judge remarked: 

“So you have been off with the friend and companion of Washing¬ 
ton! I have read in the paper of the grand receptions given him.” 

“Judge, I wish you could have been there, responded the Senator, 
with manifested pride. ‘ 1 The incidents of the last few days have been 
such as were never before witnessed by any nation under heaven.” 

“A sight which man may admire and God approve, an assembled 
nation offering the spontaneous homage of a nation’s gratitude to a 
nation’s benefactor.” 

“Truly sir,” continued the Senator, “We are irresistibly carried 
back to the past, to the day of our fathers who fought and conquered 
by the side of their honored friend.” 

“My, my!” said the Judge, “what changes have been wrought 
since then!” 

“Just to think, sir!” said the Senator, “Not half a century has 
yet elapsed since these independent states were British colonies. 

“Then, even our poverty was the prey of a foreign taxgatherer, 
and we were indebted to foreign merchants for loans to carry on a 
defensive warfare. Now, our 1 citizens are bestowing a portion of their 
wealth upon nations struggling for independence. ’ ’ 

“To be sure,” returned the Judge, “then we were oppressed and 
feeble; now. we are free and unconquerable. 

“Senator!” interposed Marie, “Was not the Marquis Lafayette 
a very young man, when he left his country, and came to the Ameri¬ 
can colonies! He is only sixty-seven now.” 

“Yes, Miss Marie,” replied the Senator, “he was only nineteen 
years old. He was then in possession of large estates, allied to the 
highest orders of French nobility, and surrounded by friends and 
relatives; with prospects of future distinction and favor as fair as 
ever opened to the ardent view of aspiring and ambitious youth. He 
was just married to a lady of great worth and respectability; and 
it \Vould seem that nothing was wanting to a life of affluence and 
ease. Yet,” continued the Senator, “Lafayette left his friends, his 


96 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


wealth, his country, his prospects of distinction, his wife, and all the 
sources of domestic bliss, to assist a foreign nation in its struggle 
for freedom, and at the same time, too, when the prospects of that 
country’s success were dark, disheartening and almost hopeless.” 

“General Lafayette, not only fought for our country,” said the 
Judge, “but he fed and clothed her armies, and he imparted of his 
wealth to her poor. And then,” added the Judge, “he refused all 
compensation for his services.” 

“I firmly believe,” declared the Senator, with milch ardor, 
u Lafayette’s motive for this conduct was one of the noblest that 
ever actuated the heart of man.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


The Reception. 

C ONSIDERING the distance to Mrs. Butler’s was fully twenty- 
five miles, the Senator called early the following evening to 
escort Marie to the reception. Marie was specially lovely on 
this occasion in a simple white embroidered mull falling in graceful 
lines about the figure with a simplicity of design, very becoming to her 
exceedingly high-bred appearance. She wore no ornaments save a few 
flowers. Eliza artistically placed in Marie’s wealth of golden hair a 
beautiful white rose. 

When Eliza returned to Marie’s room to inform her of the Sena¬ 
tor’s arrival, she found her standing by the open window drawing on 
her long gloves (which were made for the grand ball at Castle Gar¬ 
dens, New York, in honor of Lafayette, with his portrait on the back). 
The soft air fanned Marie’s pure white brow, a few tears gathered in 
her eyes, her heart throbbed wildly. She felt a presentiment; she 
would hardly admit it to herself. Yet, she could not refute it. 

“Well!” she murmured while descending the broad stairway, “he 
is all that is noble and good.” 

That evening when Marie entered Mrs. Butler’s drawing room, 
which was superbly illuminated by a profusion of lights, and saw 
the happy faces and splendid dresses of the ladies, the bright uni¬ 
form of the Richmond Guards and heard the exhilarating sounds of 
music, she thought it equal to “Fairyland.” Yet, all that would have 
been no more to her than a scene in a kaleidoscope if she had failed to 
perceive in her glance around that room Mr. John Wilton, who was 
standing at the farther end in conversation with a distinguished look¬ 
ing gentleman with long aquiline nose on a thin face; bright, dark, 
grey eyes that were twinkling and restless; whose well-cut mouth 
smiled constantly on the concourse that surrounded him. Marie knew 
him to be the illustrious General. 

Lafayette’s light frame was well adapted to the suit he wore—brown 
pantaloons, ample shirt front and neckcloth; from a wide black ribbon 
around his waist depended a bunch of seals, and over his shoulders 
was a green red-lined cloak. 


97 


98 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


Although the General’s appearance was stylish and auspicious, 
Marie quickly turned her eyes. 

“Dear John!” she said to herself. “How grand! How handsome 
you are tonight. ’ ’ 

So fully occupied with this thought Marie was not aware every eye 
was fixed upon her and the dignified Senator, as he slowly and with 
courtly grace conducted her to the hostess, who in turn presented her 
to the foreign visitor. 

General Lafayette’s keen eyes sparkled. He was delighted with 
Marie’s earnestness and her beauty. 

Her manner was charming in her perfect simplicity and self-forget¬ 
fulness when conversing with the venerable General. Her quick 
imagination enabled her to paint what she had read and experienced 
in glowing language. 

While the Senator was enjoying this pleasant conversation, he was 
impressed that someone was continually observing him, he raised his 
eyes. That instant he looked at his friend, John Wilton, and met 
a strange, anxious, inquiring gaze. Although the Senator knew he 
could not live in that elysian bliss forever, he turned deathly pale. 

“Ah, John!” sighed the true heart. “You will never find in my 
face that you are seeking. Yet, old fellow, it is a hard task to hide it. ” 
Ever loyal to John, the true and unselfish Senator gave him one look 
and smiled. 

John Wilton was satisfied. 

This was the first meeting of Marie and John in society since her 
father had forbidden their marriage. They had many times met at 
church, which in those days was considered a meeting place, not only 
suited to lovers, but also to friends and neighbors. Sometimes a 
neighbor, who lived some distance, would be reluctant in coming to 
a decision in a business transaction, it was perfectly natural for him 
to turn away and say: 

“ I ’ll see you at church Sunday. ’ ’ 

Later that evening John sought Marie for a walk in the conserva¬ 
tory. He found her surrounded by admiring friends, but with a bow 
and a blush she accepted his arm and walked off. 

The Senator’s eyes followed them until they had quitted the room. 
He then roused himself with a deep sigh, like one who comes suddenly 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


99 


to himself after a dream. He turned to General Lafayette and spoke 
pleasantly of an old soldier of the Revolution, who was standing near 
and whom the General recognized on sight and by name. 

As Marie and John walked through the crowded rooms between the 
sallies and replies of their numerous friends, John proposed a plan by 
which they could hear from each other more frequently. 

‘‘Forgive me, sweetheart,” said John in a low uncertain voice, “if 
I seem to ask too much, but tell me, how much longer am I to wait 
for youl ’ ’ 

“I don’t know,” Marie shyly replied, her eyes falling before his 
ardent gaze. 

“If you don’t know,” said John very tenderly but gravely, “Who 
does know?” 

‘‘Oh, John!’’ Marie sadly uttered, “What will father say!’’ 

John remained silent He seemed lost in sorrowful meditation. 

Their eyes met, he said, softly and reproachfully: 

“Dearest, may I make a request?” 

“Of course, John, if you wish.” she tenderly replied. “What is 
the request?” 

“That you promise me to answer my question in your next letter?” 

A dainty flush covered her sweet face; she paused. 

John pressed her hand. “Sweetheart!” he said, “Will you prom¬ 
ise ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” she whispered. A sigh followed the hesitating word. 

Marie thought of her presentiment. 

Promptly at 10 o’clock Marie took leave of Mrs. Butler. John 
accompanied her and the Senator to the Senator’s elegant carriage. 
After shaking hands, making promises and wishing each other “good 
night,” John Wilton closed the carriage door. A heavy sigh from his 
honest heart was audible. 

The Senator’s driver and footman were accustomed to the road, and 
with the two fast horses Marie reached her home in less than three 
hours. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 


Lady de Lourna’s Letter. 


NE morning a few weeks after Mrs. Butler’s reception to the 



illustrious General, Marie was sitting by the dining-room 


window reading a letter Sam had just brought from the Post- 
Office at the Court Yard. 

“Oh, father!” she exclaimed in a sad or reproachful manner. 
“What do you think, Fannie with one of her lady friends has been 
to see a medium. ’ ’ 

“Ah!” returned the Judge, looking aside from the letter he was 
reading. “And what does she say?” 

“Why, she says, Timothy Collins’ spirit appeared and told them to 
have the hog-slough cleaned out, and they would find Timothy Col¬ 
lins’ body.” 

“I wonder!” muttered the Judge. 

Marie read aloud the letter : “I cannot tell you how frightened we 
were. We hastened from that horrid woman, with her enormous ear¬ 
rings and spit-curls, out into the darkness. The night was so dark 
our driver could not see where to guide his horses, and if the horses 
had not known the road we surely would have gone over the embank¬ 
ment into the river. Sir Edgar was very much surprised at our ad¬ 
venture, and I assure you, we will never repeat it.” 

“Well, I declare!” interrupted cousin Betty, who was standing by 
the table drying the silver. “I am astonished at Fannie!” 

“I don’t see why you should be astonished, madam,” calmly re¬ 
marked the Judge. “There are some who still possess supernatural 
powers just as in the days of Saul, Paul and many others. While I 
do not question that some of the things done, are mere deceptions. 
Yet, I know of things done by them where no deception was possible. 
“Still,” added the Judge, this power of spiritualism is difficult to 
account for.” 

“Not if w'e take the Bible for our authority, father, ventured 
Marie, “and recognize it as the work of Satan, whom Jesus desig¬ 
nates, 'The Prince of this world.’ You remember,” continued Marie, 


100 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 101 

“Paul and Silas met a female medium at Phillippi. ‘A certain damsel 
possessed with a spirit of divination which brought her masters much 
gain by soothsaying. But Paul turned and said to the spirit, which 
must have been Satan, I command thee in the name of Jesus Christ 
to come out of her. And he came out the same hour.’ ” 

“Of course, Marie,” said cousin Betty, “all that is very true, but, 
it surprises me when I think of Fannie going out such a dark night 
in that lonely place. “Why is it mediums do their wonders under 
the cover of night?” 

For an answer Marie quoted: 

“Every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to 
the light, lest his deeds should be reproved.” 

“I cannot understand!” Cousin Betty spoke thoughtfully, “How 
this medium could have communicated with Timothy Collins, when 
God’s word plainly states, ‘For there is no work, nor device, nor 
knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave, whither thou goest. ’ ’’ 

“Well, madam!” said the Judge to Marie with haughty impatience, 
“while you are talking of things you do not understand, you have 
forgotten Lady de Lourna’s letter; suppose you finish reading it.” 

Marie took the letter which was lying on her lap and read: 

“Sir Edgar had the hog-slough cleaned out and sure enough they 
found the body of Timothy Collins. Tessa told me it was fearfully 
mutilated, but of course, I did not see it. 

The slaves on father’s plantation down here are a depraved set, 
and these slaves belonging to Sir Edgar are no better. Marie, there 
is a powerful difference between the slaves at home where they have 
their prayer meetings and live in the fear of God, and these poor 
ignorant creatures whose highest ambition is to hear a fiddle and 
dance and drink apple-jack. I do not know how I should manage 
without Tessa, she is the only servant on the land I can rely on for 
truth and honesty. 

“Marie, I told you in my former letter, as I never attended di¬ 
vine service I had formed a class of the young negro girls of the 
‘quarter’ on this plantation, and taught them the Bible, Sunday 
afternoons. I was so happy with the knowledge of doing something 
for their spiritual welfare. Alas! it was of short duration. Sir Edgar 
did not approve of it. He said, ‘Even if it did not weary me, he 
did not wish the servants to have their brains turned by such non- 

i >) 


sense. 


102 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


I told him it was awful to think of all these poor creatures dying 
without haying the knowledge which is necessary to their salvation. 

“Sir Edgar replied, 'When they die, they are eternally dead: there 
is no hereafter, and if I really valued my happiness or his, never 
mention the subject to him nor to any of his slaves again/ 

“Now what am I to do? What a powerful thing influence is when 
it leads! There will be no God for this entire plantation. 

“At first it worried me greatly that I could not teach these poor 
ignorant girls the Bible; but, of late I do not have much time to 
think of them. Sir Edgar is so very popular in his select circle, we 
are continually called off to balls or some other entertainment. Then 
of course we reciprocate. And as it is Sir Edgar’s wish, that I al¬ 
ways remain young, I think it very proper that I rest in bed the early 
part of each day. That is, about twelve o ’clock Tessa brings me a cup 
of strong coffee and tells me my bath is ready. 

“I am happy to tell you my dear sister, Sir Edgar is very proud 
of me, and he thinks there isn’t anything too good, nor too expensive 
for me to adorn myself. 

“I wish you could see my housekeeper; she is a dear old French 
lady, who has been in Sir Edgar’s family many years. She delights 
in entertaining me with the history of the ladies of the past genera¬ 
tions, whose portraits hang in the gallery. I think I told you that 
Sir Edgar’s mother was an English lady. 

“My dear sister I must draw this long letter to a close. Sir Edgar 
joins me in sending love to father, cousin Betty and your dear self. 

I am as ever your affectionate sister, 

Fannie de Lourna. 

P. S. .—Please give my best love to Edmonia and say to her, I am 
looking forward with much pleasure to her visit. 


Fannie. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


Enos the Letter Carrier. 

ii T" OOK out there! You black rascal!” exclaimed Judge How¬ 
ell to a small negro boy lying on the ground by a heap of 
—* rocks. 

“Don’t you see this horse will run over you?” 

The boy jumped with the agility of a cat. 

“What are you doing there?” sternly inquired the judge, as he 
held back his high spirited animal. 

“I,— Ise,—lookin’ fo’ sora’s nes’ sah.” replied Enos. Enos was 
a quick-witted boy. 

“What!” said the Judge. “You know soras do not nest under 
rocks! ’ ’ 

“I spec’ thar wus frost las’ night sah, den deys turn ter frogs.” 

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the Judge. Looking closely at Enos he 
said: 

“To whom do you belong, sir?” 

“Why yo’ es my Marsta.” Enos answered with a grin. 

“Then go tc* your ‘quarter,’ sir,” said the Judge in his rigid man¬ 
ner. “Never let me find you up here again.” 

“Yes, Marsta,” returned Enos, starting to walk ahead of the Judge. 

The Judge instantly rode on at full gallop leaving Enos far be¬ 
hind him. 

When Enos saw he was safe from detection he returned to the 
grand mass of rocks, which had been thrown together by the hand 
of nature, and took from the crotch of a nearby Gum tree a small 
bar of iron, he placed the bar between two rocks, lifted the edge 
sufficiently to draw therefrom a letter. He quickly hid the letter in 
his shirt, he made this improvised mail pouch secure by tightening 
the band of his trousers. After replacing the bar he jumped the 
fence and ran across the fields; reaching the “quarter” just as the 
gong announced dinner at the “great house.” 

103 


104 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


While the family were at dinner, Eliza slipped out of the house 
and ran down to the garden hedge. Enos was waiting there. He 
gave Eliza the letter he had concealed in his shirt, and in return she 
gave him a few blocks of loaf sugar. 

“Oh! golly Lizer! I tells yo’ what, I was skeered,” said he when re¬ 
lating his experience with the Judge, to Eliza. “De hoss was jest 
gwine ter plant es foot in my back, an’ I rolls ovah. I clar t’ good¬ 
ness, Liza!” said Enos, his mouth full of sugar, “Its ah big cu-re-is- 
ism ter me, ef Marsta diddent seed Mars John Wilton’s Tom.” 
Enos shook his head and gave Eliza a sidelong glance. He knew 
that Eliza could read and write, and he thought she had appointed 
him Letter Carrier for her own private mail. 

“Where was Tom when you were at the rocks? asked Eliza. 

“Over thar by de cross roads, and wus jes’ gwine ter poke off.” 
giggled Enos. “I seed Marsta’s hoss come flyin’, den I drapped on 
de ground; caze I thinks Marsta don go by an’ nevah see me.” 

Eliza’s laugh was mingled with fear, she said: 

“Enos, what will you tell Marsta ef he asts you, what Tom was 
doing there?” 

“Marsta aint gwine ter ax me dat,” was the emphatic reply. 

“How do you know he won’t, Enos?” 

11 Caze Marsta aint gwine ter be sturbed wif my comp ’ny. ’ ’ 

“That’s right, Enos,” said Eliza, cheerfully, “but, you must be 
more careful about my letters, never go to the rocks before you look 
up and down the road. ’ ’ 

“Deed Ise monstus keerful Lizer, I nevah takes de letter out befo’ 
I looks ef thars somebody cornin’ on de road, an’ de field.” 

“Enos, I will bring you more sugar next time,’’said Eliza, “and 
mind you never tell a soul you fetch my letters. ’ ’ 

“I cross my breft ter Gawd, I’ll nevah tell.” Enos made this 
solemn promise by making the sign of a cross on his body and blow¬ 
ing his breath upward through his hand. 

“Caze yo’ knows Lizer,” he fondly added “I likes yo’ and Tom 
too.” 

The happy negro boy went off jumping and singing the old plan¬ 
tation sopg: 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


105 


“All day I picks de cotton 
At night I seed Miss Kate 
I axd her ef she’d have me 
She say’d yo ’ cnm too late . 9 9 

“It aint no use,” mused Eliza, when she placed the letter in Miss 
Marie’s work-box, to tell Enos, that Tom never did write me a letter, 
’cause then he might ’spicion all about it.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 


General Lafayette ’s Departure. 

A NOTHER year had passed. Mr. Monroe had filled the office 
of President a second period of four years. 

The election of an individual to fill that high and honorable 
office at this period excited more than ordinary interest. Six hundred 
different newspapers were circulated in the United States, amongst 
a million and a half of electors. 

Senator Loft had filled the arduous duties of his chair with con¬ 
spicuous dignity and attention. He now voluntarily declined being 
a candidate at the ensuing election, and retired to the ranks of pri¬ 
vate life. By his talent in his exalted profession of law, he gained 
the universal esteem of his countrymen. Ambition never seduced him 
from his principles. He lived as such men should live, by and with 
his principles. 

On the ninth of February, 1825, the House divided itself into 
State sections, and proceeded to the election of a President. 

Mr. Adams, though not having a majority of all votes of the elec¬ 
tors, or of the house of representatives taken individually, yet, hav¬ 
ing a majority of the states, was duly elected. 

Mr. Adams, in his early youth, was a favorite with General Lafay¬ 
ette, having much personal communication with him. Of Mr. Adams’ 
disposition and ability to represent the hospitality and feeling of the 
millions of free people over whose affairs he presided, there could 
not be a doubt. So the last days of the nation’s visitor were properly 
spent in the nation’s house, on the invitation of the chief magistrate 
of the United States. 

From the city of Washington, General Lafayette made delightful 
trips to Virginia. 

He returned to Washington with Senator Loft during the session 
of Congress and remained there several weeks. Congress voted him 
the sum of two hundred thousand dollars and a township of land, 
as a remuneration in part, of his service during the war of the Revo¬ 
lution, and as a testimony of their gratitude. 

106 


Reminisc'ences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 107 

In the early morning of the seventh day of September, Judge 
Howell and Senator Loft sailed up the Potomac river to Washington. 

It was the day appointed for General Lafayette’s departure. 

At about twelve o’clock the authorities of Washington, George¬ 
town and Alexandria, the principle officers of the general government, 
civil, military, and naval, some members of congress, and other re¬ 
spected strangers were assembled in the President’s house to take 
leave of General Lafayette. 

Mr. Adams with much dignity, but with evident emotion, made 
an address of power and eloquence. 

To which the General made a most pathetic reply. As the last 
sentence was pronounced the French General advanced and while 
tears poured over his venerable cheeks, again took the President in his 
arms, he retired a few paces, but overcome by his feelings, he returned 
and uttered in broken accentsGod bless you!” Ahd fell once more 
on the neck of Mr. Adams. 

It was a scene at once solemn and affecting. 

Senator Loft, with a number of gentlemen, accompanied the Gen¬ 
eral from the city to board the newly built frigate “Brandywine,” 
which had been named in honor of the battle ground where General 
Lafayette shed his first blood for American Independence. 

As the vessel moved off, the vast multitude remained gazing in 
deepest silence, until it passed Greenleaf Point, where another salute 
repeated the valedictory sounds of respect, and these again were not 
long after echoed by the heavy guns of Fort Washington. 

Thus the benefactor of the American people was borne from 
America never to return. 

Judge Howell being anxious to hasten to his favorite resort, Con¬ 
gress Hall, Saratoga Springs, left Washington that evening, with 
the understanding that Senator Loft would join him in a few days. 

The fashionable people of every state, then, flocked to Saratoga 
Springs to enjoy the pleasures of society and to be benefited by the 
medicinal waters. 

Before Lady Mildred’s death, she would make enormous prepara¬ 
tion in gowns, laces, shawls, and bonnets for her annual visit to that 
popular resort, and always attended by two black maids dressed pre¬ 
cisely alike. 

Judge Howell was one of the Southern planters who drove four 
horses to the springs, followed by six black slaves in showy livery. 


108 Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

Considering the few advantages at that time it was necessary to 
comfort to have many slaves to serve the Master, and his horses. And 
not done to excite admiration or envy of his Northern associates, as 
some have asserted when speaking of the ‘ ‘ Southern Planters ’ ’ 9 former 
mode of traveling. 

It was on Thursday Judge Howell reached Saratoga Springs. Sat¬ 
urday Senator Loft joined him. With the amusements of tenpins, 
quoits, races and driving, the time flew swiftly by. 

About a week of these variable pleasures had passed, when one 
morning the proud, silent Judge Howell, and his young friend and 
neighbor, the honorable Senator Loft, were seated on the piazza of 
Congress Hall reading the daily papers. Suddenly the Judge made 
a sound like a deep groan. Hastily he moved from his chair, and 
threw down the paper. With his hands clasped behind him, the 
Judge walked the entire length of that long piazza and back again 
to the Senator. Pale and trembling, the low, measured words 
came from between his thin lips: 

‘ ‘ Senator Loft!—I wondered if you would be such a fool ! 9 ’ 

“Why, Judge!” exclaimed the Senator, “you surprise me! What 
has caused you to be so fearfully agitated ? ’ ’ The Senator stood and 
set the Judge a chair. “Sit down, sir,” he said, “you positively look 
ill!” 

The Judge heeded not his friend’s solicitation, but picked up the 
paper and pointed to the notice he had read,—in his most austere 
manner he said: 

“Read that, sir!” and continued to walk the piazza. 

The Senator read the notice. He could hardly believe his eyes. 
With his hand thrust through his hair, the true friend of John Wil¬ 
ton, again read: 

Married in Fredericksburg on September 14th, by Rev. L. E. Mor¬ 
ris, D. D., Miss Marie Howell, daughter of Judge Howell of H— 
County, Virginia, and Mr. John Wilton, son of the late Randolph 
Wilton, of the same county. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


The Same in Prosperity and Adversity. 

UT ’SPEC’ Massta be mad es fire when he cum home an’ fin ’ 
Miss Marie don’ gon’ got married.” muttered Mariah in 
the cook-room paring apples. 

“Just you ’tend to your work, Mariah,” returned Cousin Betty. 
“I’ll venture to say that your Master’s fire will never burn up the 
river. He’ll soon see that Mr. John Wilton is the likeliest young 
gentleman in this county.” “And another thing,” added Cousin 
Betty, “Miss Marie has been of age long enough to be able to decide 
that question for herself, and not be pestered with the notions of 
other folks.” 

Cousin Betty thought of her own fate. 

Mariah looked up from the pan of apples, and with her eyes drawn 
together, she slowly said: 

“H-ow ole am, Miss Marie?” 

“What!” loudly exclaimed Cousin Betty. “I declare, Mariah, 
that is a pretty question for you to ask.” 

‘I dozzen’t mean any harm, Miss Betty, returned Mariah. “I jes’ 
thinks to myself Miss Marie es mo’ an’ twenty-fo’ years ole.” 

“Pon my word! Did anybody ever hear the like! Why in the 
world do you want to pry into such things?” 

“Deed, Miss Betty, I wasn’t prying,” asserted Mariah. 

“Let me tell you, Mariah,” Cousin Betty spoke with great solem¬ 
nity. “It is prying, and it is wicked to try to find out any woman’s 
age. It is something you must never talk about. Don’t you know 
the age of only one woman is mentioned in the Bible?” 

“Law, Miss Betty!” Mariah walled her eyes in astonishment. 
“I nevah yeard tell of hit befo’.” 

“Well, it is true, and you just think of that when you want to 
know the age of any woman.” Therewith Cousin Betty took a huge 
pinch of snuff. 


109 


110 Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

On the afternoon of the fourteenth day of September, Cousin Betty, 
dressed in her best black silk gown, felt quite a responsibility, as she 
took her seat in the carriage to accompany the bride-elect to the 
Fredericksburg Rectory, where the marriage was quietly celebrated. 
Dr. Morris performed the ceremony. The invited guests were con¬ 
fined to a few of Mrs. Morris’ friends, including Mr. and Mrs. 
Anderson. 

The stately bride w'ore a dress of the finest book muslin with five 
rows of narrow white satin ribbon just above the hem, and on her 
lovely golden hair rested a large white leghorn flat that the Judge 
had bought her one month previous at the cost of $150. 

Following the ceremony, supper was served. As Mrs. Morris had 
so arranged it, John and Marie remained with her until the next 
afternoon. Then she and the doctor accompanied them to their 
new home, which was four miles from the town of Fredericksburg. 

Cousin Betty and Eliza went early in the morning to see that 
everything was ready for the reception of the bridal party. Tom had 
been previously stationed there. 

The house was rather large for beginners, but the owner having 
moved away, John secured it at a moderate rent, and with Mrs. 
Morris’ assistance he prepared Marie a most desirable home. 

Marie found the rooms were large and bright, furnished with good 
taste, nothing too expensive for a man in John’s position; still a 
home that would enable them to maintain a social dignity. 

While Mrs. Morris was conducting Marie through the house and 
pointing out the spacious rooms, she stopped at one of the doors and 
said: 

“This, my dear, is your dining-room!” 

They entered the room. Marie paused and looked at a stout, but 
trim old negress in a new purple calico dress, with a bright plaid 
handkerchief neatly bound around her head. She was arranging 
dainty China on the supper table. Marie stepped nearer and looked 
again; then she ran to the negress, exclaiming: 

“Oh, Mammy Lempy! I am so glad.” And Marie fondly threw 
her pure white arms around the dear old black mammy’s neck. 

“John did not tell me you were here,” said Marie. 

“Law! honey, I .knows it,” mammy replied. “Mars John was sot 
on sprizen yo’.” 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


111 


“Well, if that was his wish,” said Marie, “he certainly did suc¬ 
ceed.” “Are you going to stay with us, mammy?” 

“Yes, honey, thank de good Lawd. I’se gwine ter live in de 
country agin an’ I’se gwine ter take kare of yo’ and Mars John.” 

“Would you not rather live in the city of Richmond?” asked 
Marie. 

“No, honey! It am all right fo’ dem es likes de big city, but dares 
too much fusement fo’ me.” 

“Yes,, there is a constant going and coming,” returned Marie. 
“'But, mammy, you saw many sights in the city that are not in the 
country. ’ ’ 

“Law, me, child! ’Taint’t nuthin’,” sneered mammy. “I spec’ 
mo’ ’an half de po’ white folks dat am hawn in de city don’t knows 
nuthin’ ’bout de good liven dey ’s in de country.” 

At that moment John bounded into the front hall. Like a happy 
hoy, he called: 

“Where is Marie?” 

“Here she is,” Mrs. Morris answered. “She has found Mammy 
Lempy. I shall now leave her in your care, sir, while I join the 
doctor. ’ ’ 

“Well, John!” cried Marie, “you certainly have given me a pleas¬ 
ant surprise.” 

“Iam not entitled to the credit, sweetheart,” replied John. “Moth¬ 
er and Sister Patty planned it all with mammy, who I understand 
was a mighty willing co-operator. ’ ’ 

John laid his hand caressingly on Marie’s wealth of golden hair. 
“Mammy!” he said, “isn’t she a sweet creature?” 

“Deed she am, Mars John,” mammy fondly replied. 

“I am glad you both think so,” said Marie, with a tender smile. 
“But you better not spoil me; you may regret it,” 

“That we could never do, sweetheart,” said John tenderly. He 
moved suddenly. “Oh! I forgot. Come! Come with me, dear!” he 
said. “The doctor sent me post-haste to bring you to see what he 
claims to he the finest scuppernong grape-vine in the State.” 

As John led Marie from the room he turned around and said: 

“We will be ready when you call, mammy.” 


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Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“Mars John,” replied mammy, “I spec’ taint be long now, sab.” 
She turned to the window. “Tom!” she spoke as one with author¬ 
ity, “What fo’ yo’ foolin’ wif dat dog? Didden’t I tol’ yo’ ter ax 
Lizer if she want mo’ wood? Tote sum of dem victuals in frum de 
kitchen, sah. I warrant its mo’ becomin’ ter yo’.” 

Big, good-natured Tom hurried off to the kitchen. 

Before John and Marie left the hall, the tall young husband bent 
down and kissed his bride, then affectionately drawing her near to 
him, asked if she had any fears of happiness in the home he had pro¬ 
vided for her. 

“My dear,” answered Marie. “My heart is so full of happiness 
there is no room for fear to come in. ’ ’ 

“Sweetheart-, it is such a comfort to know you are pleased,” said 
John. “I feared you would, just a little, regret leaving your ele¬ 
gant home to take up your abode under this humbler roof.” 

“Dispel all fears, John,” Marie nobly replied. “This is our home 
and it must be the seat of happiness.” 

“My darling!” John reverently responded. “God knows my heart, 
and He knows it is my greatest desire that you may always be happy. ’ ’ 

“You all better hurry along here,” called Mrs. Morris, “if you 
want the doctor to save you any grapes.” 

“Help yourself, doctor!” said Marie, as she entered the bower. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Wilton,” replied the doctor with assumed dig¬ 
nity. “If you look at these baskets that Mr. Wilton has filled you 
will think he has helped me, and also helped Miss Betty. 

“I rejoice to know Mr. Wilton was so very thoughtful,” returned 
Marie in the same bantering tone. 

“See here, Marie!” exclaimed Cousin Betty. “All these branches 
are from that one stem in the center. ’ ’ 

“Isn’t it wonderful!” responded Marie “I never before saw so 
many branches on a vine. Did you, doctor?” 

“No, I never did,” answered the doctor approaching Marie with 
a handful of grapes. “This vine is one of the finest of North Caro¬ 
lina specialties,.” 

“And isn’t this a lovely spot!” Marie exclaimed. 

“This,” responded the doctor, “is a place where the muses 
might delight to make their visits, and their inspiration would be felt 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


113 


to be in harmony with the scene.” “I imagine,” added the doctor, 
“that John, who still delights in reading, will spend many spare mo¬ 
ments here.” 

“Of course I shall, doctor,” admitted John. “I expect to spend 
many happy moments here.” Drawing Marie closer to himself he 
whispered, ‘ ‘ But, I trust not alone. ’ ’ 

True as Mammy Lernp had said, it was not long before supper was 
announced and the happy bride and groom, with their true friends, 
were seated at the sumptuously laid table, prepared so skillfully by 
mammy, with Eliza’s assistance. 

Among Tom’s numerous duties one was to wait at table. 

That evening when Dr. Morris, his wife and Cousin Betty re¬ 
turned to town, Marie and John were for the first time alone in their 
new home to make their many plans for the future. 

The privations of commencing life in narrower circumstances were 
borne by John and Marie with cheerfulness and readiness, for on 
both sides there was good sense and generous feeling, as well as true 
affection, and they experienced a happiness unknown to those who 
shut up or disappointed their affection from false pride. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


Desiring a Reconciliation. 

J UDGE Howell received a letter from Marie, giving him the reason 
of her marriage. The letter was open and affectionate, and ex¬ 
pressed a desire for a reconciliation. She wrote- 
“ After long persevering and toiling, John now considers himself, 
“ Master of his trade/ ’ 

“Trade!” “Mechanic!” hissed the prond Judge as he crushed the 
letter in his hand. Judge Howell’s daughter, marry a mechanic!” 
“Great God!” he uttered, starting up from his seat. “I’ll never 
forgive her!” 

To the Judge it was a disgraceful act for his son William, to marry 
a mechanic’s daughter, but, now, his stately daughter, for whom he 
had cherished marriage, to marry a mechanic, was a disgrace he 
would never pardon. 

Fannie had married wealth and station in life. The Judge delighted 
to speak of her as, “My daughter, Lady de Lourna.” 

The next morning the haughty Judge was more composed. He 
wrote a few lines to cousin Betty, directing her to have every article 
that belonged to Miss Marie, sent from his plantation to the abode 
of Mr. John Wilton. He also wrote: “As Miss Marie has now more 
than sufficient for a mechanic’s wife, she will never be burdened 
with another farthing of mine. And wdien I wish to see the wife of 
Mr. John Wilton, I shall apprise her of it. 

Cousin Betty sent the letter to Marie with her effects. 

“Oh, I know what that means!” cried Marie in a low, sad voice. 
“They are the same cruel words he spoke to brother William.” 

“Yes, sweetheart, they are about the same,” said John. He colored 
slightly. ‘ ‘ Still dear, as you married the mechanic your offense must 
be greater than William’s.” 

John was indignant, his magnanimous nature throbbed in sympa¬ 
thy wdth his tender w r ife. With a little warmth he said: “ I am aware 
the Judge regards no man who performs manual labor. And, yet, I 
am surprised that his mind and heart are so hardened with pride. ’ ’ 

114 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 115 

Perhaps John, if you could visit father and talk with him on the 
subject, he would think better of it,” suggested Marie. 

"That I will never do, sweetheart,” John responded kindly,—yet 
it was with an air of decision. 

Marie sighed. It went straight to John’s heart, twining his arm 
around her slender waist he lovingly said: 

"Darling, the Judge does not wish to see me. He may soon ap¬ 
prise you of a desire to see you.” 

"Father will never wish to see me again,” Marie sadly uttered, 
while her lovely frame shook with uncontrollable emotion. 

The Judge was not blind to John’s excellent qualities, but, for a 
son-in-law, the Judge thought wealth and high social position, were 
indispensable. 

It was never known for a mechanic to sit at Judge Howell’s table.— 
"Mr.—please step over to the cook-room, sir, and Mariah will give 
you your dinner.” Thus the invitation to a mechanic was invariably 
given at Cedar Hill. 

While the Judge was fighting this battle with pride, Senator Loft 
wrote a kind and encouraging letter to John and Marie, wishing 
them a long and happy life, with the blessing of Almighty Cod. 

Then the noble, unselfish man returned to his home. He found all 
dreary and repelling. 

That evening he sat to a book—alone; there was no* one by his side 
to enjoy with him the favorite passage, the apt remark, the just criti¬ 
cism. No eyes in which to read his own feelings; his own tastes are 
unappreciated and unreflected. He has no resource but himself. All 
his enjoyment, all his happiness must emanate from himself. He 
flings down the volume in despair, buries his face in his hands and 
sighs aloud: "Ah, me!” 

For some moments the Senator remained in that despondent posi¬ 
tion, at length he lifted his face, it was white and haggard. 

He rang the bell. It was answered by Rufus. 

"Pack my trunk. Get ready for a long journey,” directed the Sen¬ 
ator. He rose sighing heavily, taking a seat at his desk he began to 
look over his papers. 

Rufus stood in hesitation. 


116 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


The Senator turned around.—“Well?” he inquired. 

“Marsta!” said Rufus, “kin I takes de liberties ter ax whar we’s 
gwine, sah?” 

“To Europe,” replied the Senator, “We leave for New York to¬ 
morrow morning.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


Sad News. 


OHN and Marie had now spent two years of married life; the 



happiest years John had ever known. All the while he was 


busied about his daily occupation his thoughts were wondering 
towards the time of going hime. He knew that on his return, after 
the fatigue of the day, he would find a loving face to welcome him; 
and after an appetizing supper* his wife would be sitting by his side 
consoling him in his vexations, aiding him in his plans for the future, 
or participating in his joys. 

John loved Marie truly and tenderly, and since their marriage she 
had been to him a perfect wife. But, now that she held to him the 
two-fold relation of wife and mother to his child, he looked upon her 
with a love akin to reverence. 

They had many visitors, but to John no one seemed so happy and 
contented as himself. Once when speaking of the open “family jars” 
of two of their friends, John in a satisfactory manner remarked: 

“Dearest, our life is truly the acme of happiness!” 

One afternoon in early spring a warm breeze was blowing from 
the south; Marie strolled out to the garden with her book and took 
a seat under the grape-vine, when Eliza was tending baby Dorothy. 

Marie was scarcely seated when Eliza exclaimed: 

“There comes Mars John!” 

“Where?” asked Marie, looking around incredulously. 

“Yonder he comes, in the gate,” replied Eliza. 

John was driving in much earlier than usual. Marie apprehensive 
of trouble hastened to meet him. 

“Oh, John!” she cried, “what has happened? How ill you look!” 

“I am not ill, dear; only a little weary,” John responded, “Where 


is Tom?’ 


“At work in the barn,” replied Marie, “do you wish Eliza to call 


“Never mind;” said John, “I shall turn the horse loose and let 
him graze.” 


117 


118 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


After John turned the horse into the field he said: 

“Come dear, let us sit under the arbor I have sad news to tell 
you. ’ ’ 

44 Sad news! echoed Marie, and her eyes opened wide in wonder, 

“Yes, dear,—Mr. Anderson is dead!” John sorrowfully replied. 

“Dead! Mr. Anderson dead?” “I can hardly believe it! He ap¬ 
peared so well, yesterday.” 

“Yes, my dear,” said John, “our good old friend was found dead 
in bed. This morning when I reached the store the shutters and 
doors were tightly closed; of course that prepared me for something 
unusual.” “But oh!” said John, “such a shock as I received when 
I was told Mr. Anderson was dead . 9 ’ 

“Poor Mrs. Anderson!” ejaculated Marie, I am so sorry for her! 
What was the cause of his death, John?” 

1 i The doctors said it was heart desease, ’ ’ was the reply. 

A silence ensued. Marie and John were each absorbed in thought. 
Presently John spoke: 

“Dear, you do not ask about the business.” 

“I never thought about the business, John, I was thinking how 
dreadful it was for poor Mrs. Anderson to lose her dear husband, 
John, dear,” Marie said in a choked voice, dropping her head fondly 
on his shoulder, “I am so thankful my husband is not dead.” 

John drew her closer to his side, and while stroking her hair with 
a loving touch he told her more news. 

“Dear, do you know,” John paused, “that your husband is with¬ 
out employment?” 

“Is that so, ejolinT' queried Marie, “of course,” she gravely 
added, as she raised her head from his shoulder, “I might have 
known it.” 

“I hated to tell you, sweetheart J’ 

“Why should you, John?” she asked. 

“Because I feared it would worry you. And then, he added 
wearily, ‘ ‘ I don’t know what to do. ’ 9 

“Why, John!” exclaimed Marie, “I thought you were brave! 
I never knew you to be so easily discouraged! Your love for me makes 
you timid, dear, you may not have to wait long. Let us hope for 
the best.” 

John shook his head in a dejected manner. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


119 


“My dear/’ said Marie cheerfully, “have you forgotten the beau¬ 
tiful lines you read to me the other evening: 

‘God’s kindness, wisdom and power are always secretly at work 
for our good. The delay is not abandonment. He is only waiting to 
be gracious, and the season in which he will appear to our joy will 
display his glory, and draw forth our praise.’ ” 

“In the meantime, John,” continued Marie, “let our minds be 
kept in perfect peace, being stayed on God. And let us remember if 
things are gloomy and discouraging, that the lower the ebb of the 
tide, the nearer the flow. It is often darkest just before the break of 
day.” 

John caught her in his arms and fondly kissed her. “Then it is 
settled, sweetheart,” he exclaimed with alacrity. “We are not to 
worry. And,—another kiss—I shall do the very best I can.” 

The dull pain in John’s heart was stilled, at least for the present. 

A noted writer has observed: 

“If in prosperity, wealth and luxury, woman is weaker and frailer 
than man; when adversity comes she is stronger than man, stronger 
in heart and purpose. Stronger to adapt herself to unfortunate cir¬ 
cumstances and to make the best of them. Indeed, it is not until ad¬ 
versity comes that we know how strong a creature woman is.” 

Few women have had a better opportunity of showing this strength, 
than Marie, during the third year of her married life. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


Eliza. 


I T cost perahps the greatest struggle which the mind can make 
to conform at once, and without a murmur, to altered circum¬ 
stances. Yet, there is no other way but to submit and begin to 
spin the web of hope and endeavor anew. 

For the sake of his sweet companion John tried to be brave; he 
tried work as a panacea for his trouble, and was seldom idle while 
waiting for the tide to flow. 

Alas! as time passed and the little money exhausted, John was 
utterly overwhelmed. The world seemed, no longer, to contain 
anything outside of his little family worth living for. 

Finally, through a friend, there came one day, an offer of a posi¬ 
tion as foreman in a large establishment in Baltimore. 

After much thought and consideration, John decided to accept 
the position and move his family to that city. As the retiring 
foreman’s time did not expire before the first of the next month, 
John had ample time to make his arrangements. 

Though John was a busy man adjusting his affairs! to move, 
Marie saw he was unusually silent, and apparently much depressed. 
The deep lines in his handsome face plainly betrayed anxiety. 

One evening, after they decided to move to Baltimore, John and 
Marie were seated at their sitting-room table; she embroidered while 
he read aloud. After John had finished the article he was reading, 
he slowly pushed aside the book; then, with his head resting in his 
hand, he sat silently looking into space. 

Marie looked up. “What is the matter, dear?” she asked with some 
concern. 

“I was only thinking,” John smiled. 

“John!” said Marie, “Who was that old gentleman with you under 
the scuppernong vine the other day ? ’ ’ 

“When dear?” he inquired. 

“When Eliza was there with the baby.” 

“Oh! that was Mr. Reed,” said John. 

120 


Reminiscences of Virginia,Life a Century Ago 


121 


‘ ‘ Where is he from ? ’ ’ she asked. 

“From Philadelphia, dear.” 

“What did he want, John?” persisted Marie. 

“He was looking around the country.” John tried to appear in¬ 
different with this evasive answer. He made an excuse and left the 
room. 

While at supper one evening shortly after the preceding conversa¬ 
tion, John said: 

“My dear, I saw Sallie Carter today. She is anxious for you to 
spend one more day with her before we go to Baltimore.” 

‘ ‘ I promised her, ’ ’ returned Marie, ‘ ‘ I would be there one day this 
week.’ ’ 

“I knew you talked of going,” said John, “so I told her you would 
be there, with mammy and the baby, Thursday morning. ’ 9 

“Thursday will suit me very well,” said Marie, ‘but why should 
mammy go, when Eliza is Dorothy’s nurse?” 

“My dear,” John replied, “it is better for mammy to go. Eliza 
can help us more by staying at home. ’ ’ 

Marie consented to take mammy Lempy. 

Thursday morning John saw that Marie was comfortably seated in 
the gig, and mammy, who had little Dorothy cuddled in her lap, was 
seated by Marie’s side. 

John kissed his wife and child “good-by.” Marie gathered up the 
reins. “Good-by,” she called cheerily. “Keep good house till I 
come home. ’ ’ 

Ah! God only knows what a struggle it was for John Wilton to keep 
house that day. 

In the evening John watched for Marie’s return. When he saw her 
driving up the road he stood by the opened gate waiting. 

“Look out, sir!’’ Marie merrily cried. “We might run over you!’’ 

Not much danger, I reckon,” John replied. He cautiously led the 
horse around the curve to the steps of the portico, then put out his 
hands to assist Marie from the gig. 

‘ ‘ Take baby first! ’ ’ Marie said. ‘ ‘ I know mammy is tired; our lit¬ 
tle lady is quite heavy. ’ ’ 

As Marie entered her chamber—it was on the first floor—she said 
kindly, “Come on, mammy.” She set a chair and bade mammy 
“sit down.” “Come, Eliza, take the baby!” she called. 

Marie removed her gloves and wraps, then again softly called: 


122 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“Come, Eliza, take the baby; mammy is tired.’’ 

Eliza did not respond. 

Marie waited. She rang her bell. 

John answered it. “Can I do anything for you, dear?” he asked. 

“Yes, John, please send Eliza to relieve mammy of the baby.” 

John remained standing in the doorway. He could not move. And 
he would rather die than tell her. It was utterly impossible. 

Marie looked at him. She was startled. ‘ 1 J ohn!’ ’ she cried, ‘ ‘ What 
is the matter?” “How strange you look!” She walked over to him. 
“Oh! what is it? Why is it Eliza does not—.” Marie did not com¬ 
plete the sentence. She suddenly grasped John’s arm and quickly 
uttered: 

“Oh! that Mr. Reed.” 

Then, with a loud cry, Marie sank upon the floor. Her face became 
as white as death. Her hands clasped upon her bosom, her tearless 
eyes gleamed with a look of wild despair. 

Nearly exhausted, her pale lips moved, she cried: 

“Oh! my husband! You have sold Eliza!” 

Marie fell over unconscious. 

Several hours passed before she awoke from the deep swoon into 
which she had fallen. When she opened her large blue eyes she 
faintly smiled on John, who sat anxiously watching by the drawn 
curtains of her bed. 

“Are you better, dear?” he eagerly asked. 

“Yes,” was the soft response. 

Where the heart is deeply interested the words are few. The next 
day Marie was able to listen to J ohn’s explanation: 

‘ ‘ Mr. Reed was looking for a kind and intelligent negro girl to serve 
his afflicted daughter, and as soon as he saw Eliza that day under the 
scuppernong grape-vine he wanted to buy her, and offered John 
$2,000 for her. “Of course,” said John, “I refused it, and told Mr. 
Reed no amount of money would buy her. Day after day, night 
after night, the one thought haunted my brain. Two thousand 
dollars! I tried to banish the thought. I tried to read. Yet 
with everything I did, and everywhere I went, the same thought 
would follow me. Last Friday Mr. Reed wrote urging me to sell 
Eliza; she was the only one, of all the girl slaves he had seen, he 
thought would suit his daughter, and if I would sell her he would 
give me $500 more than he first offered me. ’ ’ 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


123 


“Marie, my darling,” said John. “God knows I hated to do it, 
hut it was the last resort. You know I do not approve of selling 
slaves, but this was a case of actual necessity. ’ ’ 

“Admitting the necessity,” said Marie, “Why was it Eliza had to 
be the sacrifice ? ’ ’ 

“Don’t—don’t talk like that, dear,” cried John. “Tom, I have 
not the power to sell. Mammy Lempy belongs to mother. She will 
remain with us, and can comb your hair and lace your gaiters. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Ah, John! It is not the service I received from Eliza I grieve for; 
the very uncertainty of her welfare almost breaks my heart. ’ ’ 

“And you almost break my heart!” sighed John. 

‘ ‘ What will Mr. Reed require of Eliza ? ’ ’ questioned Marie. 

“To be attentive and patient with his afflicted daughter,” John 
answered. 

“Do you think she will have a good home, John?” 

“Yes, dear, I am satisfied Eliza will have a good home. Mr. Reed 
is a very wealthy man, and he is blessed with a very kind heart. ’ ’ 

Marie was thoughtfully silent. Presently she remarked: 

‘ ‘ What a time you must have had while I was at Mrs. Carter’s. ’ ’ 

“No indeed, dear, I did not,” returned John. “That is, not 
after I had thought how to manage it.” 

“How did you manage, John?” 

“Of course, to avoid any trouble,” said John, “I used a little 
stratagem. ’ ’ 

“Tell me all about it, John,” urged Marie. 

“I reckon, dear,” he said, “you had better rest now, and not 
bother any more today.” 

Marie was paler than usual and a little worn. 

“But John, I would like to know, dear; please tell me now.” 

“Of course, sweetheart,” said John. “I intended to tell you all 
when you were better able to hear it.” 

“I am quite able to hear it now, John.” 

He drew his chair closer to her’s and gently raised her slender 
white hand to his lips. 

“Soon after you left for Mrs. Carter’s,” John began, ‘Air. Reed 
drove up. I expected he would come early. After a short talk with 


124 j Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

him, I gave Eliza a trunk and bade her pack it with her clothes and 
her little trinkets. I told her you had sent Mr. Reed to take her to 
the boat, that you, Dorothy and mammy were on the boat waiting 
for her to go to Baltimore. ” 

“ Oh! how could you! ’ ’ cried Marie. 

“My darling,’’ John sorrowfully responded, “I could for your 
sake; and it was only for you that I could do it. ’ 

“Who took care of her?” asked Marie. “She may have gone 
wrong! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ That could not be, my dear, ’ ’ said John. ‘ ‘ Mr. Reed went up on 
the same boat, and he explained when they arrived at his home in 
Philadelphia. ’ ’ 

“Oh, poor Eliza!” sobbed Marie. 

John Wilton pressed his hand to his aching brow. How pale 
he looked! How troubled! He turned again to Marie and tenderly 
said: 

“Dear, can you ever forgive me?” 

Marie gave him one look through blinding tears, then her arms 
were around his neck straining him to her breast; she kissed his 
throbbing forehead. ‘ ‘ My poor darling, yes, ’ ’ she replied. ‘ ‘ I freely 
forgive you. I can understand what you have suffered.” 

“No, dear,” he said, “No one ever can. My life to me has been a 
living death.” 

Perfect love is always generous. 

Marie’s love for John was perfect, therefore she considered this one 
shameful act of John Wilton’s life a sorrowful mistake. 

But not so with Judge Howell, when he was told John Wilton had 
sold Eliza. He went into a fearful passion and declared: 

“John Wilton has sold the first and the last of my slaves. I swear 
it!” His arm uplifted, “John Wilton and his family may starve, 
and the buzzards pick their bones, before they shall have one farth¬ 
ing of my money. So help me God! ’ ’ 

The Judge turned into his chamber and slammed the door behind 
him. No one saw him till the next morning. Then he appeared as 
usual, in his calm, quiet, austere manner, with no trace of the violent 
passion. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


On the Chesapeake Bay. 

W EARILY enough Marie completed her arrangements for the 
removal. Meanwhile John sent for his sister Patty to ac¬ 
company them to their new home in Baltimore. 

One bright Friday morning in the early autumn, John Wilton, his 
family, and all his household effects on Captain Lewis’ Schooner, 
set sail for Baltimore. 

The Schooner was also heavily laden with wheat. They started with 
fair wind, and in s?iort time they were out of the Potomac river, 
sailing up the Chesapeake bay. 

The next day there was a perfect calm with reverse of tide.—On the 
third day there was a slight breeze; after the flood tide the Captain 
was compelled to anchor. On the fourth day at flood tide they gained 
the point they had made on the first day. 

On the fifth, sixth, and seventh days they were at the mercy of the 
tide. On the eighth day, the worst fear of the Captain was realized; 
the heavy schooner sprung aleak. 

The constant pumping, the anxious faces of the crew, added great¬ 
ly to the fears of Marie and Patty. 

Poor old mammy swayed and moaned, “I knows, honey,” she said 
to Marie “no good es gwine ter come sottin out on Friday.” 

Marie silently prayed and hoped, but, Miss Patty’s loud sobbing 
was so pitiful it really unnerved the Captain. He said to John, “If 
sister does not keep quiet I shall jump overboard, she is enough to 
set a man crazy. 

The outlook was very serious. The crew nearly worn out, and 
the leak increasing. 

Mr. Wilton and Tom took their turn with the crew in pumping. 
Although Tom was as black as Othello, he had a strong arm, and 
fine, generous principles. He was always near the pump, ready to 
relieve the weaker ones. 

One day Mr. Wilton pumped until he was nearly worn out before 
he would give up to Tom who was waiting to take his place. ‘ ‘ Come 
Tom!” he finally said. “It is your turn now*.” 

125 



126 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


Tom jumped to the pump. 

“Mars John!” he said with some dignity. “Ef pumping es gwine 
ter keep my people from roostin’ on de bottom of dis bay, dis child 
am gwine ter pump, sah.” Tom pumped manfully. 

On the morning of the eleventh day Marie sad, and pale, was si¬ 
lently sitting on the deck. Mammy was by her side holding the 
sleeping Dorothy in her lap. 

How slowly the anxious hours passed! 

All that morning Patty remained in the cabin, just before the 
dinner hour she appeared on deck, dressed in her very best silk dress, 
a handsome lace collar, and expensive Jewelry. 

“Why Patty!” exclaimed Marie, whose first thought was,—“the 
long strain has been too much for Patty’s mind.” 

‘ ‘ I knew you would be surprised, ’ ’ she said in a sorrowful manner. 

“Of course, I am,” returned Marie, “Why did you change your 
dress ? ’ ’ 

Patty had lost all hope of ever reaching land, she sadly and slowly 
replied: 

“I am dressed for my grave.” 

“For mercy sake!” cried Marie, “pray do not talk like that.” 

“It is true, Marie,” returned Patty, when our bodies are found, 
mine will be treated with far more respect than yours will be, in that 
plain merino dress.” 

“Patty, dear, don’t you think my dress is more suitable for this 
occasion, than your present outfit?” 

“Yes, Marie, if we were going to land,” replied Patty. But as it 
is, whoever finds my body dressed this way, will pick it up carefully 
and handle tenderly and say: 

“Grive it decent burial, for she was a lady.” 

“Take my advice Marie,” pleaded Patty, between her sobs, “go 
down this minute and dress in the best you have, for I tell you it is 
true—by our dress, we command respect, dead or alive. And I know 
you cannot think dress is an unimportant matter, when you did not 
wish to sail before your new pelisse was finished.” 

“I admit, Patty, dress is an important matter, and one that con¬ 
sumes time and money from the cradle to the grave. ’ ’ 

“That is just what I said,” cried Patty. “If I had died on land, 
my friends would have made me a becoming shroud, but now—and 
and Patty wept aloud—“I must dress myself for burial. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


127 


“Law, Miss Patty!” interrupted mammy in a consoling way. 
Whats de use yo’ frettin’ like dat, honey? We’s might lay on de 
bottom of dis bay till de resurrection mawn. When de good Lawd 
calls yo’ name dats in de big book, do yo’ think yo’ es gwine ter go 
befo’ Him wif dat silk dress on, an’ dem big earrings?” 

“Hardly, mammy!’’replied Miss Patty. 

“No indeedy, honey,” said mammy, we’s mo like de caterpillar. 
After he don’ crawling on de earth, he dies, or he sleeps a time in 
his little coffin, but on his resurrection mawn he ’wakes a new creature, 
an’ has on a beautiful dress that Gawd made, den he flies in de 
heavens. 'Bless de Lawd!’ ‘Bless His Holy name!’ Ise gwine ter go 
ter sleep a poor black worm, but on de resurrection mawn I’ll wake 
a pure white angel.” 

“Mammy!” exclaimed Marie. ‘Don’t give up hope now, you have 
been so brave God will not forsake us, mammy; He has stilled the 
wind and He will make it rise. I thought you and Patty, had more 
faith.” 

“Marie,” said Patty, “this morning, I heard the Captain say to 
one of the crew, ‘If the wind does not rise soon, it will be utterly 
impossible for me to save this vessel. ’ ’ 

“Patty, dear, come sit here by me and stop your worry,” entreated 
Marie, “the wind will rise, and we shall soon move along.” 

“How do you know, Marie? You are not a sailor!” said Patty, im 
a pettish kind of humor. 

“No, I am not a sailor, still I am on the watch. Look!” and 
Marie pointed to the distant water. “Look away over yonder at those 
little curling waves; I was watching them when you came up. See 
Patty, they are coming nearer all the time.” 

“Cheer up, mammy!” cried Marie, don’t you see those little waves 
are coming to take us up the bay?” 

Mammy shook her head, and looked anything but cheerful, though 
she tried to believe it was true. 

The waves did come, and were near the vessel, when Marie ex¬ 
claimed : 

“Thank God! I knew He would answer my prayer.” 

A heavenly look passed over the dear creatures face, as she raised 
her eyes heavenward in prayer. 

“Oh, my sweet sister,” cried Patty, with her head buried in Marie’s 
lap. “If I only had the same faith. You don’t know how I have 


128 Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

suffered; I was almost frantic while I was dressing for my burial.” 

“ Praise de Lawd!” came slowly and reverently from the lips 
of poor, old mammy. She heard the Captain’s order: 

“Weigh anchor!” 

Soon the broad sheet of canvas was spread to the breeze, imme¬ 
diately the sail was filled, and the vessel began to move faster and 
faster. 

That evening John Wilton gathered his family around him, he 
knelt on the deck and fervently thanked God for His divine assist¬ 
ance in their extremity. 

All that night the leaking schooner was swiftly flying up the bay, 
and arrived at the city of Baltimore early the following morning- 
just two weeks from the day it left the Virginia shore. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


Wisdom Gained By Experience. 


« 



OM!” said Mr. Wilton. “There is a market-house three 
squares from here.” 


“I see’d it, sah,” returned Tom. 


“Well,” said Mr. Wilton, “I am going over to that market and 
buy a piece of beef before mammy cooks breakfast. Get your hat, 
Tom, and come along.” 

Instantly Mr. Wilton started out to do his first marketing in a 
city. 

A large, handsome house, situated on the corner of a very wide 
and elegant street, was the new home John Wilton rented for him¬ 
self and family. His neighbors were considered not only genteel, but 
also aristocratic, 

Mr. Wilton and Tom had been gone to market about one-half hour, 
w r hen Miss Patty, who was standing at the dining-room window 
(where she had a fine view up the street), suddenly exclaimed: 

“For gracious sake, Marie! Look yonder at Brother John and 
Tom coming down the street.” 

Marie turned to the window and stood by Patty’s side. They saw 
John Wilton, tall and erect, cane in hand, leisurely walking toward 
his home. Tom was following close behind him with a quarter of 
beef on his bent-over back. The beef was so large the end trailed on 
the ground. 

“Befo’ de Lawd!” ejaculated mammy, who followed Marie. “Ef 
dat Tom ain’t sweepin’ de road wif de meat.” 

Mr. Wilton entered his front door, evidently well pleased. Tom 
staggered under the quarter of beef into the back entrance. He soon 
had choice cuts ready for mammy to broil. 

“Brother John!” said Miss Patty while at breakfast, “I am quite 
sure it is not customary for city folks to buy so large a piece of 
meat. ’ ’ 

“Oh, pshaw, Patty!” replied John. “This beef is delicious.” 


129 


130 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


1 ‘ I know it is. I never tasted finer, ’ 9 returned Patty. ‘‘ But I don’t 
know what we shall do with so much of it. Do you, Marie ? 9 9 

Not unless we eat it,” replied Marie. “I reckon we shall have 
visitors, Patty . 9 9 

“Of course, eat it,” said John, “and have plenty for your visitors. 
When that is gone I will buy more . 9 9 

John would gladly exercise the hospitality of his boyhood days. 

“But, Brother John.” Patty was persistent “city folks do not buy 
so much at one time.” 

“Well, Patty!” returned John. “We are country folks, and I 
bought only one-quarter. I never bought less in my life. I would 
be ashamed to ask a man to sell me less than a quarter of any kind 
of meat.” 

However, John learned by experience how to buy meat in a city 
market. 

John found his new position both pleasant and profitable. He 
regarded Mr. Mansfield, his employer, as one of the model men of the 
Christian world. And soon discovered his employer, like himself, 
was a lover of books. John invited him to call at his home and see 
his collection of books. 

Mr. Mansfield accepted the invitation, and called one Sunday after¬ 
noon. 

John was always courteous. The secret of his success was his pleas¬ 
ing personality and energy, with the desire to succeed. 

After he had shown his employer through the large, elegantly built 
house, with a few furnished rooms, Mr. Mansfield remarked: 

“This is a beautiful house!” Then in a manner not to offend, he 
said: 

'May I ask what rent you pay here, Mr. Wilton?” 

“The rent is $800 a year, sir. I pay $66 and some cents a month,” 
John promptly replied. 

Mr. Mansfield smiled. 

“Is that not reasonable?” asked John. 

Yes, very, for so large a house as this.” 

John was slightly confused. 

Mr. Mansfield broke the silence. 

“Mr. Wilton,” he said, “you will not object if I speak plainly 
with you?” 

“Not at all, sir,” was the candid reply. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


131 


“I believe I understood you to say,” Mr. Mansfield began, “your 
only income, at present, is your wages.” “Now excuse me, sir,” lie 
kindly added. “Have you thought of the amount you will have left 
after your rent is paid?” 

“Of course I have, sir,” replied John, “and I am quite sure I shall 
have more than enough to supply the demands of my family. My 
wife and sister are much pleased with this house, although the halls 
are not so wide, and the rooms are not quite as large as those we have 
been accustomed to. Still, there are more rooms here, and more than 
we shall need.” 

“Mr. Wilton,” said Mr, Mansfield, with kindly interest, “There 
are many demands in a city home that can be supplied only by the 
exchange of money. And you will find, sir, that inexperience has 
caused you to make a great mistake in selecting your city home.” 

“It is very kind of you, sir,” replied John, “to credit my mistake 
—if it be one'—to inexperience; for sometimes we know exactly what 
we ought to do, but have not the moral courage to do it.” 

“I am sure, Mr. Wilton, that is not your case. I know you to be 
a man of courage, and I am confident you will never allow it to for¬ 
sake you, especially when it arises from a sense of duty.” 

“Thank you, sir,” John responded with a bow. 

“And I also know,” continued Mr. Mansfield, with a smile, “that 
experience in city life will baffle your calculations in maintaining a 
home like this.” 

Alas! Before John Wilton had paid his thjird month’s rent he 
realized his kind employer’s words were true, and he was com¬ 
pelled to reduce his expenses. 

Marie found the little things they were accustomed to have in the 
country were so expensive in the city she was constrained to practice 
economy, and advised mammy to order milk instead of cream, and 
use less butter and eggs in the cooking. 

“Wisdom gained by experience is of inestimable value,” quoted 
John Wilton, when he and his happy family were comfortably estab¬ 
lished in a suitable house and near the church of their choice. 

They aimed more than ever at a higher and deeper attainment in 
grace. 

John proved a most proficient foreman. And as Marie trod the 
path of life by his side, his strong hand upholding her footsteps, her 
gentle presence shed light upon his God-fearing heart and happy 
home. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


The Louisiana Home. 

I T was not only the cold, but the wind and snow, that made the 
night an unusually severe one for Louisiana. The snow was 
falling fast on the frozen ground. But in the library of Sir 
Edgar de Louma’s mansion all was warmth and brightness. 

Lady de Lourna had just thrown aside an exciting novel she had 
spent the evening in reading. She rang a tiny silver bell. 

Tessa answered the call. 

“Brighten up the fire, Tessa,” said Lady de Lourna, “and draw 
the curtains; I hate to hear the windows rattle with the storm.” 

After the fire was brightened, and the heavy damask curtains of 
the long windows were drawn together, Tessa said: 

“You don’t look ’tail well, Miss Fannie! Is yo’ sick?” 

‘Oh, no, I am not sick,” was the reply. “I feel weary and would 
go to bed, but I think Sir Edgar surely will be home soon. You may 
go, Tessa. That is all I want.” 

While Lady de Lourna reclined in her downy chair by the fire in 
that gorgeously furnished room awaiting the return of Sir Edgar, 
who had been called to New Orleans that morning, her reverie was of 
her life. 

Ah! how fully had Marie’s predictions been verified of that once 
light heart. How greatly had four years changed the whole character 
of the countenance. There was scarcely a trace left there of the exist- 
ance of the joyous face—so full of happiness, of glad enthusiasm, of 
ardent thought, 

Alas! for life without the true God! How its rugged influences 
mold and warp the character. 

Leaning back in her large chair, her feet resting on the fender of 
the fire-place, Lady de Lourna looked dreamily into the flames. She 
mused: 

‘‘1 have everything to make me eminently happy—kind, loving hus¬ 
band, countless friends, wealth and social position. ” “ Am I happy ? ’ ’ 
“Happy!” 


132 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


133 


“Ah! what mockery such words are!” she uttered sadly. “I won¬ 
der—that the great uneasiness, the dread, the desire I now feel—is a 
token for good! Is it not too late? Have I not reason to fear 
that I have passed the bounds of Divine patienco? Has the Lord 
shut the door? In resentment of my neglect and provocations, has 
He given me over to a reprobate mind? Has he poured upon me 
the spirit of slumber? Ah, hence it is that I am so indifferent, 
and nothing affects me as it once did. And there shall be no 
more death; neither shall there be any more pain, for the fashion 
of this world passeth away. I wonder where my Bible is,” said 
Lady de Lourna. 

Quoting those few lines reminded her of that neglected book. She 
thought a while, but could not reeall when or where she had it last. 
“I will look for it tomorrow.” 

Thus dear Lady de Lourna mused till after midnight. Suddenly she 
rose and walked the length of the room, up and down, her long silk 
wrapper rustling with every step. She glanced at the clock, then rang 
the bell. 

Tessa came in rubbing her eyes. She had been asleep. 

“Tessa,” said Lady de Lourna, “I shall not sit up any longer for 
Sir Edgar. I think the storm has detained him. You may go to bed. 
I can get ready alone.” 

* ‘ Deed, Miss Fannie, I ’se gwine ter snug yo’ fust in yo ’es bed befo’ 
I lay my sides down dis night. Yo’ ’pears mighty po’ly ter me, Miss 
Fannie.” 

The first time Sir Edgar "heard Tessa address Lady de Lourna as 
Miss Fannie, he forbade her to do so again. 

‘ * Please—please allow her to call me by that name, ’ ’ entreated Lady 
de Lourna. 

“Why, my dear?” asked Sir Edgar, in surprise at her fervency. 

“Because it is natural, and I like it,” she answered with pouting 
lips. 

“Have it your own way, my darling!” said Sir Edgar, pressing her 
face between his hands, kissing her lips. “Anything but a cloud 
to pass over this sweet face! ’ ’ 

However, on that cold stormy night, as Lady de Lourna stood in 
her spotless, white gown ready to get in bed, there was far more cloud 
than sunshine in her face. 

She hesitated a moment, wavering. 


134 Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

11 Tessa!’ 9 she said, ‘ ‘ I am going to say my prayers first. I have 
neglected to say them long enough.” Hers was truly a contrite heart. 

Kneeling by the side of her bed in childlike simplicity, dear Lady 
de Lourna confessed to God her ingratitude and her forgetfulness of 
Him, to whom she owed all she had in this world, or expected, and 
hoped for in the world to come. She not only prayed that God would 
forgive her sins, but also forgive those of her entire household. She 
prayed: 4 4 Have pity, 0 God of mercy, on my misguided husband. 
Bring him to Thee by the blood of the cross . 9 ’ 

When Lady de Lourna arose from her knees she breathed a deep 
sigh; her face was not all sunshine. 

“I ’spect she es worrying ’bout her condition,” thought Tessa, 
drawing the soft blankets over her young mistress, who was nearly 
hidden by the many feathers in the high bed. 

“Is yo’ all right, Miss Fannie?” she tenderly asked. 

“Yes, thank you, Tessa. I am all right. You can go to bed. Sir 
Edgar will not be home now before daylight,” 

“Hadn’t I better drap a pallet on your floor, Miss Fannie?” 

“No indeed, Tessa,” she kindly replied. “I shall not need you. 
Good night. Shut the door after you, Tessa! ’ ’ 

Weary from her long vigil, Lady de Lourna was soon asleep. Just 
before the dawn of day she was aroused from that sleep by piercing 
screams and loud voices. She quickly drew aside her bed curtains and 
found her chamber full of smoke. 

“ Oh! what is the matter ? ’ ’ she shrieked, and rushed to the door. 
She succeeded in opening it, but was met by a volume of smoke and 
flames. 

A loud voice called her name. Then through the din she heard 
someone yell: 

4 4 Go to the balcony! ’ ’ 

She hurriedly turned back through the blinding smoke in her 
chamber to reach the window that opened on the balcony. 

Poor Lady de Lourna was bewildered. In her desperate effort to 
gain the window, she stumbled and fell to the floor. 

Joseph, the man servant, who advised her to go to the balcony, was 
there to meet her. He dashed through the window. The room was 
then in full blaze, and his mistress in a dead faint. 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


135 


Carefully as possible Joseph lifted Lady de Lourna’s unconscious 
form to the balcony, and with the assistance of other servants he car¬ 
ried her to Aunt Delilah’s cabin. 

If there was any choice in the cabins of that “quarter” Aunt Deli¬ 
lah’s was the first. 

The chimney occupied one entire end of the house; that is, it was 
about twelve feet wide and in the centre was the fire, leaving space on 
each side in the arch for benches. Near the fire on one side of the room 
stood a spinning-wheel; on the other side was a bedstead with a 
shuck mattress. On this bed the servants tenderly laid Lady de 
Lourna. 

It was on important business that Sir Edgar left home that morning 
for New Orleans, and fully expected to be home that night. Unfor¬ 
tunately he was detained by the severity of the storm. Somehow he 
was extremely anxious to get home. He started, but was compelled to 
seek shelter at a wayside inn. 

However, by the first dawn of day Sir Edgar had his horses brought 
out, and he was soon on the road traveling homeward. 

As he rode on he saw, in the distance, a thin streak of smoke curl¬ 
ing in the air. 

‘ ‘ What does that mean ? ” he spoke aloud, evidently alarmed. 

Down came the whip on the horses backs. They fairly flew over the 
frozen ground. Sir Edgar lashed and lashed; the horses snorted and 
reared; the carriage swayed, while the wheels rolled in and out of 
the ruts. At last they dashed through the opened gateway into the 
yard. 

Although Sir Edgar did not believe in the existence of God, and had 
assured his wife the subject was distasteful to him. Yet, his first 
exclamation, when he saw his grand mansion with his magnificent li¬ 
brary and the old gallery of family portraits all in a pile of ashes, was: 

“Great God!” 

Distracted, he turned to the slaves near and loudly cried: 

‘ * Where is your mistress ? ’ ’ 

“In Aunt Delilah’s cabin,” was the answer. 

Without another question, the distressed man hastened to the cabin. 
There he found the seats in the fireplace crowded with whispering 
negro women. Aunt Delilah and other older negro women standing 


136 Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

by the side of his beautiful, darling wife, and she was lying on that 
hard, soiled bed, with flakes of snow that had fallen from the leaky 
roof. 

Dear Lady de Lourna was not conscious of it, nor of her hurband’s 
presence. She was raving in the wildest delirium of fever. She was 
even unconscious of the existence of her own new born babe, that 
lay cold and dead beside her. 

Near the hour of midnight she sprung suddenly f/flrni the low bed 
and stood erect in her unnatural strength, upon the floor. She called 
upon God, in a loud voice, to save her soul from torment. 

Sir Edgar took her in his arms with soothing words. A change 
came over her face. He gently laid her back on the bed; she made 
no resistance. The conflict was over. The once beautiful, bright and 
happy Lady de Lourna was dead. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


The Lawsuit. 

I T was more than a year after Lady de Lourna’s death, that Judge 
Howell stopped at his favorite resort, Congress Hall, Saratoga 
Springs. On entering the parlor one morning he discovered 
among the new arrivals, his neighbor, Senator Loft. 

The Senator had just returned from Europe. 

“Well, I declare, sir!” heartily exclaimed the Senator, “I cer¬ 
tainly am glad to see you. How long have you been here?” 

“Pour days,” replied the Judge, “but it seems like four years.” 
“Why, time must drag!” responded the Senator, smiling. 

“It always does, when one is waiting,” returned the Judge. 
“Waiting?” queried the Senator. 

“Yes,” said the Judge, with sarcasm. “Waiting the result of a 
lawsuit I have instituted with Sir Edgar de Lourna.” 

“Whew! Is that so, sir?” The Senator was amazed. 

“I reckon, Senator, you remember about the agreement, and the 
five stipulative years?” 

“Oh, yes, sir; I have remembered the agreement was for five 
years. ’ 9 

“At last, the time has expired!” snapped the Judge. 

“Are you not pleased with Sir Edgar’s management of the plan¬ 
tation ?’’inquired the Senator. 

“Yes, sir; he has made decided improvements in the plantation, 
but the trouble is this, Sir Edgar has returned the one hundred 
slaves, without the five years increase.” 

“What? Why, Judge!” uttered the Senator confused by the quick 
recollection of the writing of the agreement. “Did you not make 
provision for the increase when you wrote the agreement?” 

“No, Senator: I did not, and why I failed to do so, I cannot im¬ 
agine. ’ ’ 

“Knowing that,” said the Senator, “I suppose you have not much 
hope of gaining the suit.” 


137 


138 Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

“Well, I reckon I have less hope to lose it,” replied the Judge, 
rather tartly. 

The Senator was accustomed to the strange vagaries of the Judge; 
without a pause and in a most courteous manner he said: 

“Of course, sir, you believe the jury will render a verdict in your 
favor! ’ ■ 

“Assuredly!” the Judge exclaimed. “I will not lose it!” he 
added with a determined shake of his head, striking his fist on the 
table. 

Judge Howell was known far and near as a sagacious, shrewd law¬ 
yer. No one knew better than the Senator how mortifying it was 
to the proud Judge, that he should have made so great a mistake in 
Writing that agreement. Rather than lose the case the Judge would 
spend many thousands of dollars. 

He was tired of waiting, he looked worn and every day he grew 
more nervous. 

“Come, Judge!” The Senator cheerfully said one afternoon. 
“Come take a drive!” 

“No, sir; I thank you.” The Judge replied drawing his chair to 
the front of the piazza. 

“You had better come, sir,” urged the Senator pulling the reins 
that restrained the prancing horses. “I would like your opinion of 
this handsome pair before I buy them.” 

“Not today, Senator, thank you,” was the decisive reply. “I am 
looking for a dispatch, and would rather remain here.” He bowed 
and turned from the Senator. 

Although the Judge censured the Senator for what he thought, was 
lack of courage, to speak for the hand of his, daughter, Marie, his 
esteem, for that unselfish, noble man had never lessened. 

It was after sundown that evening when Senator Loft returned 
from his drive to Congress Hall. 

Ascending the stairs to his chamber, he met Ephraim with wild 
staring eyes, and trembling hands extended above his kinky head. 
In a pleading voice he cried: 

‘ ‘ Oh, Marsta Senatah! fo ’ de Lawd sake! go in my Marsta’s cham¬ 
ber. 

“What is the matter, Ephraim?” asked the Senator. 

“Fo’ de Lawd sake!—do pray go, sah.” 

“Is your Marster ill?” 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


139 


Wuss en dat, sir!” exclaimed Ephraim. “Evah since dat ’spatch 
cumed, he am bin like dis. ” 

“Why are yon standing here, Ephraim?” 

“Ise waitin’ fo’ yo’ sah,’’was the reply. “'Den I kin hear ef 
Marsta am gwine ter ring fo’ me.” 

“Yon should not leave him alone, Ephraim,” said the Senator, 
“He may need yon.” 

“No, sah, Marsta don’ need me; he throwed a whole passel of books 
at me and says, ‘ ‘ Begone yo ’ black devil! Go ont hare! I ’ll kill yo ’! ” 

“Ephraim,” quietly said the Senator, “go back to your Master’s 
chamber, and say, “Marsta, Senator Loft is; coming in to see yon.” 

The Senator fearing the Judge might refuse to admit him, followed 
closely behind Ephraim. 

He found the Judge exceedingly agitated and his face was highly 
flushed. 

“Senator,” muttered the Judge in a feeble voice, “I have lost the 
damn suit.” 

The Senator immediately saw the Judge was in a critical condition, 
he turned to Ephraim and whispered: 

“Go down stairs, tell Mr. Ross to send Senator Loft, a physician 
at once.” 

“What did you say?” faintly asked the Judge, trying to rise from 
the rocking-chair. “A physician! I don’t want a physician, sir.” 
“Of couyse not, Judge!” persuasively returned the Senator. At the 
same time nodded to Ephraim to go on. He gently laid his hand 
on the Judge’s arm to allay his excitement. “Be calm, sir,” he said. 
“They have neglected to supply you with sufficient candles, I have 
sent for more.” 

While awaiting the arrival of the physician the minutes seemed 
like hours to the solicitous Senator. In reality it was only a few 
minutes, as the physician was down stairs. He leisurely walked into 
the room with his case of medicines in his hand, approached the 
Senator, with an affable countenance, said: 

“'What is the trouble, sir? Were you taken suddenly?” 

“No, sir,” answered the Senator, “I am well, thank you, but I 
fear the Judge is critically ill.” 

“Ah!—he appeared to be in perfect health this afternoon,” said 
the physician as he raised the Judge’s hand to feel his pulse. He 
started, and quickly looked the Judge in the face. Then placing his 


140 Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

ear over the region of the Judge’s heart, he listened for the heart¬ 
beats. Turning to the anxiously Watching Senator, the physician 
gravely exclaimed: 

“Sir, the man is dead!” 

“What?” demanded the Senator. He could not believe it. 

“Yes, sir,” returned the physician. “Died of apoplexy, caused by 
undue excitement.” 

Before the remains of Judge Howell were laid to rest in the old 
church-yard, by the grave of Lady Mildred, his last will, which was 
then of recent date, was read. 

Oh! what a consternation it caused when it was known that Judge 
Howell had given all his slaves, on his three plantations, their free¬ 
dom, with a stated amount of money for all those who wished to be 
transferred to Liberia to the settlement of Montserado. (Afterwards 
called Monrovia in honor of President Monroe, under whose auspices 
it had been conducted). 

After providing for his slaves the will read: 

In consideration of the respect my natural son,—now living in 
Boston and known as—Horace Morton, Esq., has paid to my wish 
and advice to practice law, I give the residue of my entire estate. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


All Things. 


« 



HOU shalt rise up before the hoary head and honor the face 
of the old man.” 


After two-score years—which is more than half of the 
general limit to man. 

One afternoon in early spiring a portly, strikingly, fine looking 
elderly gentleman left his office and large manufacturing establish¬ 
ment in care of his employees. It was his custom to leave a short 
time before the hour of closing for the night. 

After a long walk through business and residential streets, he 
turned into one of the finest streets in the city of Baltimore, and 
ascended the broad marble steps of a handsome dwelling. 

Leaving his hat in the hall, and not wishing to disturb the pianist 
who was then absorbed in the loftly strains of “Chopin’s Grand 
Valse,” he cautiously opened the parlor door. 

“Oh, Grandpa!” exclaimed the young lady, approaching the old 
gentleman with the same queenly grace that struck his heart so 
forceably when a young man. ‘ ‘ Go up stairs; grandma has something 
to tell you.” 

“Indeed has she! Is it a secret?” 

“No, sir: it is not a secret; but I know you will be surprised.” 

“And pleased too?” cheerily asked Mr. John Wilton. 

“Yes, grandpa, “I am sure you will be pleased. Grandma is de¬ 
lighted.” 

‘ 1 Is that so ? Come on, let us hurry!’ 9 said the old gentleman, play¬ 
fully taking his granddaughter’s arm. I am ready for the surprise.” 

Arm in arm they ascended the soft-carpeted stairs to a bright sit¬ 
ting-room, and found the dear old lady (the same majestic form) 
her hair that was once golden, was white as the neckerchief, that lay 
in folds around her still fair neck. Laying the gold rimmed spec¬ 
tacles on the book she had been reading, she exclaimed, with unusual 
animation: 

“ Oh! father, I am so glad you have come! ’ ’ 


141 


142 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


“And I am glad to be here, Marie, my dear,” he fondly replied. 
“I understand you have a pleasant surprise awaiting me.” 

“Indeed brother John, you will be agreeably surprised!” interposed 
Miss Patty who was sitting by the window busily knitting. 

“No doubt, sister, I shall enjoy what seems to give you all so 
much pleasure,” returned Mr. Wilton. He smiled and added, “when 
you tell it to me!” 

As soon as Mr. Wilton was comfortably seated in his large chair, 
Carrie, his granddaughter, brought his slippers, and sat on an otto¬ 
man by his side. 

“Now father,” began Mrs. Wilton, “I wonder if you can guess 
who has been here today?” 

“Only some of our Virginia cousins,” was the quick reply. 

“No, no relative, whatever.” She said. 

“Well, let me see!” Mr. Wilton threw back his head, and closed 
his eyes. “Oh! I have it!” He clapped his hands joyfully, and cried 
out: 

“President Johnson!” 

“Now, father!” said Mrs. Wilton, “you are only teasing. I am 
bound to tell you anyhow.” “You know of Bishop Harris, of the 
African Methodist Episcopal Conference?” 

“He whom the people are lauding to the skies, grandpa,” inter¬ 
rupted Carrie. 

“Yes,” returned Mr. Wilton, “I know very well to whom you 
refer. He lectured at the Maryland Institute.” “A fine man, not 
only a genius in his profession, but he possesses high qualities. ’ ’ 

“Well, he called here today,” said Mrs. Wilton, smiling. “And 
what do you think, father?” she asked. 

Mf. Wilton made no reply, but by the tightly closed lips, and the 
shake of the head, he gave his wife to understand he did not know 
what to think. 

“Father!” she fondly said, “That Bishop Harris is the husband 
of Eliza!” 

“What!” exclaimed Mr. Wilton in utter astonishment. “It hardly 
seems possible!” “Well!” he said in a tone of relief, “Thank the 
Lord you have heard at last. “My dear, what did the Bishop say 
about Eliza?” 

“Eliza is well and living at Bangor in the state of Maine. She 
has one child living, a son, who is now a, missionary in Africa. ’ ’ 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


143 


"The Bishop is traveling through the Southern states, preaching 
and lecturing for the benefit of his race. "He promised Eliza he 
would try to find us, and tell us of her Northern life.” 

"I wonder why Eliza did not let you hear from her before!” 
ejaculated Mr. Wilton. 

"It was not her fault!” quickly returned Mrs. Wilton. The Bishop 
told me he tried once before when in Baltimore to find us; but some¬ 
how, he got the wrong name. Eliza has always wanted to hear from 
us; she has a great desire to see Dorothy, your mother, Carrie. Mrs. 
Wilton paused and slowly wiped the stealing tears from her kind 
blue eyes. 

"Bishop Harris said this morning,” she presently continued, "be¬ 
fore he was made a Bishop, he was preaching in Philadelphia and 
Eliza attended his church. She was then a free woman.” 

"How could that be, mother?” asked Mr. Wilton incredulously. 

"This is the way I understand it”—Mrs. Wilton replied. "After 
Mr. Reed took Eliza to Philadelphia, for some years, she had an ex¬ 
cellent home; but after young afflicted mistress died, she was hired 
out. Then her trials and hardships commenced, and lasted for five 
years.” "Finally, it was through the efforts of a Mr. Benton, who 
ranked high among philanthropist, whose labors were singularly 
active, and conspicuously successful, that she obtained her freedom.” 

"Well—well—well!” slowly uttered Mr. Wilton. "I am so thank¬ 
ful for your sake.” "Truly mother,” he fervently said, "all things 
work together for good to them that love God . 7 7 There was something 
peculiarly gentle and touching in Mr. Wilton's manner. 

"Grandpa!” said Carrie, "Eliza had two sons in the Federal army 
that were killed in the battle of Gettysburg.” 

"Oh, yes! Mrs. Wilton promptly recalled, "I told the Bishop he 
could tell Eliza, brother William and his two sons were killed in 
the same battle, under General Lee’s command.” 

"Was it in that battle, Colonel Loft was killed, grandpa?” Carrie 
asked. 

"No, pet,” he answered sadly, "the Colonel’s last battle was in 
the first part of the war.” "Ah! it was a fearful struggle!” said 
Mr. Wilton, "never during the Civil war has a more bloody battle 
been fought. The snow lay on the ground to the depth of three inches, 
and a cold blinding rain falling. Four days in such weather the 
soldiers continued to fight, without time to eat or sleep. Tired, hungry 


144 Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 

and nearly frozen, our noble, faithful friend was riding at the head 
of his regiment, he had led them to the charge, and received a fatal 
shot in his breast. He fell, cheering on his men.” 

“Oh, how dreadfully sad!” exclaimed Carrie. “Did he die on the 
battlefield, grandpa ? ’ ’ 

“No dear, at the Colonel’s request he and other soldiers were taken 
to the old ‘Haunted House,’ which the Colonel had purchased and 
fitted up for a wayside hospital. He supported it while he lived, and 
before he died he willed all his money to be used for its support, in 
case of his death.” “Dear old Senator,” softly sighed Mr. Wilton. 
“His whole life was given to the comfort and happiness of those 
around him, without thought of self.” 

“Had he no family, grandpa?” Carrie inquired. 

‘No, he was a lonely bachelor,—but all that was noble and good,— 
everybody loved him.” At the hospital, Marie Howell, one of the 
most gifted women of the South, stood faithfully by his bedside. 
“She told me,” said Mr. Wilton, “before the Colonel died, his face 
was radiant with Divine peace—he cried, ‘Come Lord Jesus, come 
quickly.’ She commenced the hymn ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee.’ At 
the end of the stanza he exclaimed with striking energy, ‘Oh, Lord 
Jesus, I am coming nearer to Thee!’ His last words were, ‘Father, 

I am coming to Thee! ’ Then the Christian soldier sweetly and calmly 
fell asleep in Jesus.” 

Mr. Wilton sighed, and rose from his chair. 

“Isn’t cousin Marie Howell your namesake, grandma?” asked 
Carrie. 

“Yes, dear,” answered Mrs. Wilton. “And was an angel of mercy 
in that wayside hospital. She soothed the pains and sorrows of many 
sick and dying soldiers, and turned their thoughts to God and heaven. 
“My, my!” Mrs. Wilton softly added, ‘Little did I think that night, 
when father, brother William, and Colonel Loft, then Senator, rode 
over to Henry Brown’s farm to capture the ghost, that the Senator 
would purchase that old haunted house and fill it with the necessary 
comforts of a hospital, for sick and wounded soldiers.” 

“And your brother William’s daughter presiding over that hospi¬ 
tal!” interposed Miss Patty, “with some of the most honored and 
gifted women of Virginia, helping her to minister to the body and 
soul of poor dying soldiers. ’ ’ 


Reminiscences of Virginia Life a Century Ago 


145 


“It has been well said!” observed Mr. Wilton, with a gleam of 
satisfaction: “The devotion and self sacrifice which the Virginia 
people manifested in their attention to the sick and wounded men 
can never be surpassed.” 

Miss Patty’s slender white hands lay idle on her knitting. She ap¬ 
peared absorbed in thought. Many pairs of socks, knit by her busy 
fingers, found the way to the cold frosted feet of the Confederate 
soldiers. 

Mrs. Wilton was sorrowfully silent. 

“Come mother!” John Wilton tenderly said, “Don’t be sad!” 
‘ ‘ I shall stop ! Let us say no more about the war! ’ ’ 

“Yes, stop!” exclaimed Miss Patty, “Fold the banners of the 
‘Lost Cause,’ and honorably bury them from sight forever.” 


FINIS 












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